The Black and the Blind Stags
by Odd-Wolf-Pen
Summary: What if King Robert and Queen Cersei had trueborn children? Don't get me wrong they were an accident. An accident that cost Cersei the crown she so desired. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Greetings folks, the name is Belinda and I wanted to try writing a Fanfiction, so this is my first fic. English is not my first language but I will welcome all comments and constructive criticism. I will only put up a disclaimer once in this fic and that will be now, because I personally can't stand to read the same line in the beginning of every chapter. So I hope that you will give the fic a shot and I also hope that you will enjoy it.**

 **Disclaimer: I only own my OC and I suppose the plot is myne to since it is a AU but the rest belonges to the god George R.R. Martin.**

 **Prologue (Cersei POV)**

I remember when I was a little girl, home in Casterly Rock, running around the halls with Jamie sparring with little toy swords and listening to mother sing us to sleep. I was happy then, everything was perfect. Then that little monster came and took it all away, my mother, my brother, my perfection. After that little monster came I didn't hear my mother sing and I most definitely didn't spar with Jamie anymore, I was to angry at him for even thinking about looking at that creature.

I once asked my father at a feast for a nameday or other, if any of the lords out there would be my husband or had sons who would be. My father scoffed and looked sternly at me. „There is not one lord out there who is worthy enough for a Lannister. You, Cersei, will be queen and those fools will all bow at your feet". That sentence echoed in my head and became my life goal. From that evening I spent more and more time with the septas, grooming my self for the day the realm would bow at my feet and eventually my strong whitehaired sons.

Then Robert's Rebellion came, and that is when my final hope was crushed at becoming Rhaegar Targaryen's wife and queen. But with it came new hope, a different vision but the goal stayed the same, the realm bowed at my feet and eventually my strong blackhaired sons.

I was so happy when the announcment was made, finally, finally one step closer to my goal. Robert Baratheon was every bit the warrior the stories made him out to be, tall, dark and handsome, not to mention muscular. Kings Landing was perfect, the wedding was perfect, the crowning ceremony was perfect, the feast was perfect, I finally had the perfection that had been missing since my mothers death, back in my life. The bedding ceremony was not as perfect but that was to be expected, and there he was, my king. I was so happy all had turned out like I wanted it, that I didn't notice how drunk he was.

The bedding hurt a lot, and then I hear that wretched name tumbling from his lips in exstacy, _Lyanna_. Oh how I loathed the dead woman who held my husbands heart. Hearing it every time he bedded me tore away a part of my love for him and I started to dread every night, knowing he would come again. My brother Jamie, never far away and always my knight in shining armour, did his best to comfort me and evade the oncoming depression and I really appreciate his efforts, I could almost see the perfection approaching.

Then I became pregnant with Ormund, my sweet, sweet Ormund. I was so happy, mostly because now Robert could now stop comming to my bed for a time being but also because I was finally getting my strong blackhaired son who the realm would bow to. Jamie was also thrilled about the prospect of a nephew. The pregnancy was fairly easy and Robert was finally showing me the affection I dreamt about. It was perfection. The birth was painful, so painful and lasted for hours upon hours. I have never been as relieved as when I heard Ormunds shrill cries, announcing his arrival into the world.

My beautiful Ormund, with full head of thick black hair and blue eyes. I couldn't stop admiring him and only looked up when the door slammed open, crashing into the wall, its only crime being in my husbands way. „Look my king," I say as I present him his son, „Meet your son, Crown prince Ormund Baratheon, first of his name". Roberts gaze was fixated on his son as he slowly approached the side of the bed. I handed him his son and Robert held him securely. „My queen you have made me the happiest man in all the kingdoms." He said and gave me a dazzling smile.

Unfortunetly our happiness did not last long. Four days later Ormund cought a fever, and two days later the bells rang presuming him dead. I was devastated, so run by grief that it took hours to calm my cries and screams, and then it was only Jamie who could manage it. My cousins Lancel and Tyrek came to Kings Landing to squire for the king and of course offered their condolences. I could see that Tyrek could not give two shits about my sweet dead son but Lancel did and that comforted me. I walked around in black for many moons and watched Robert bring in one whore after another, even though he still bedded me now and again, I made sure to drink Moon tea afterwards, because after Ormunds death my vision changed yet again. The realm would bow t my feet and eventually my strong goldenhaired sons.

Three moons after Ormunds death I found out I was pregnant again. I was extatic knowing that it wasn't Roberts child. Jaime, Lancel and Robert were all very happy to and at the end of a very uncomfortable pregnancy I gave birth to the longed heir to the throne, Crown prince Joffrey Baratheon, first of his name and goldenhaired. Joffrey was a demanding baby, always needing attention. I was so proud to see he already commanded attention so early, he would be a quick learner.

Six moons later I find myself back in the maesters tower for an examination to confirm if I am indeed with child again. I was, and I was in seventh heaven. Hopefully it would be a demure goldenhaired girl for Joff to cherish and protect, or mabey another courageous goldenhaired boy to lead his armies and count on to always have his back in this godforsaken snakepit. Little did I know that seven moons later, at the end of the easiest pregnancy in Maester Pycelles memory, I would get the nastiest shock of my life in the form of twins.

My dear courageous goldenhaired boy and demure goldenhaired girl became two blackhaired terrors. At least in my mind. They both came awfully quiet to the world but definitely had the 'battlelungs of a Baratheon' in Roberts own words. I was in shock, how could that happen? I was so carefull with the Moon tea. Robert was bewitched by them, even more so than by my Joff and it annoyed me to no end. Joffrey was his heir, where was his attention?

„What shall we name them my king?" I ask Robert one evening when he came by the nursery to bid the twins good night. I could not find it in me to name them. And that was when the realm celebrated the birth of Prince Steffon Baratheon, first of his name and Princess Sheira Baratheon, first of her name.

To my utter dismay my Joff seemed to get along with the twins, those little devilspawns who had no thought for proper behaviour. Steffon was always running around with bastards and servants children and Sheira prefered to spar or brawl with the lowborn boys over playing with dolls and teaparties with the highborn ladies. It is deplorable and embarrassing. Robert is no help what so ever, he encourages them endlessly and for the twins third name day he even gave Steffon a miniture version of his own warhammer and Sheira, an axe. An AXE! For a three year old princess? An outrageous scandal if there ever was one.

A few moons after the twins disgraceful nameday, I gave birth to my sweet and demure goldenhaired love, Princess Myrcella Baratheon, first of her name. What a lovely child she made, never fussing or taking attention from her brother, a true princess, always thinking of others. I was so happy that I didn't care if Roberts little terrors came inside to greet my little angel, I simply ignored them. Joffrey also came and got to hold his little sister. He smiled so beautifully and it was truly a picture perfect.

A year later there was somekind of a tournament in Bitterbridge hosted by Lord Caswell and his young son Lorent. I could not go because I was heavy with child yet again, but it did not bother me I could spend time with my little goldenhaired son and daughter waiting for this one who I was sure would be another strong goldenhaired boy. Robert took the twins with him and even managed to coax that northern barbarian Stark and his wife to join him at Bitterbridge.

I am not entirely sure what happened at Bitterbridge but Sheira came home with her head bandaged all around and Steffon never let her out of his sight and even threatened my Joff when he asked why she had bandages on her head. That was the day Joffrey finally began to see what the twins really were, a threat. There were many rumours ranging from somethings ridiculous like the Seven came from heaven and slashed Sheiras face for the sins of mankind, to something plausible like she jumped into a lions pit. There were also rumours that the Caswells even lost their hands and heads for Sheira's scars.

I told Robert that he didn't have control over Sheira since she was jumping into lion pits and rolling around with pigs. Robert surprised me when he banged his fist on the table so hard that the table broke.

„Sheira did not, do you hear me? She DID NOT jump into the lions pit she was pushed! Pushed by that weakling Lorent Caswell! To think that a twelve year old boy would even think about pushing a five year old girl into that pit, more so a princess! By the Seven I was so scared, I could not even move. You know it was your father that jumped in first after we heard her screams. Your father, the Tywin Lannister, jumped head first into a lions pit to save his granddaughter. I jumped after him with your brother Jamie and Stannis right behind me. We were four agains seven lions and I could not do anything for my little girl before killing those damned lions. Little did I know that Ned had jumped after us and whisked Sheira out of the pit and to a maester. My dept to that man keeps growing. He saved my little warrior".

Roberts anger steadily decreased during his rant and by the end he was talking wistfully almost sadly. It surprised me that my father ws the first one to jump to Sheira's defence, seven hells it surprised me that he interfered at all. But a fortnight later Maester Pycelle declared her healed enough that the bandages could be removed, and what a horror that was. Long angry red lins across her face, from above her eyes and down both across her eyes and the bridge of her nose and after a long examination Sheira was declared blind and never be able to reclaim sight again. I silently rejoiced because now only one of the twins would truly ever be a threat to my gallant Joffrey.

Two moons later I gave birth to Prince Tommen, first of his name and goldenhaired. He was a very sweet boy even though a little plump. But it was perfect. I had my handsome golden prince who would one day sit on the throne, my beautiful golden princess who would secure her brothers hold on the throne and the courgeous golden prince who would lead armies nd crush any resistance who opposed his brothers claim. The only problem left being Steffon, quiet, stubborn Steffon.

As the years went by I made sure that there were a certain distance between my children and Jamie, Lancel and Tyrek, I couldn't afford any suspicion on their paternity. It worked as Tyrek really didn't care and Lancel always did as bid if it was for the family but Jamie, he could stay away from my children like they didn't matter to him but he spent more and more time with Roberts children. He taught Steffon and even Sheira the art of swordfighting and even coaxed them into learning to fight with all kinds of weapons. I could not understand why he was teaching them to fight but not my Joff. Joffrey is the oldest, he should be a priority.

As the years passed so did the kinship between Joffrey and the twins, who the common folk have come to call the Black and the Blind stags, but I so affectionately call the the Terror Twins, at least in private. Joffrey would often butt heads with the twins and of course, knowing the twins, sometimes literally. On one such occasion Joff came to me crying, with a scratch on his arm claiming that Steffon had attacked him and threatened to mke sure that Joff would never sit on the throne. I of course went straight to Robert and demanded that Steffon would be punished.

All Robert did was call Steffon to his solar and ask him what had happened. Steffon said in his quiet but striking voice that Joffrey had attacked him with a knife, threatened that he would never live to see two days of Joffreys reign and then accidently cut himself. Robert had laughed at that, clapped Steffon on his back and sent him on his merry way then proceeded to scold Joffrey. I was outraged.

One good thing that I managed to convince Robert about was that the twins were restless in the city, they could do so much more, learn much more if they were fostered elsewhere. At that point I would have welcomed sending them to the northern barbarian wasteland. He agreed with me and at the age of seven they were whisked away up north, but they did not stay there. Robert had taken my complain to heart and wanted them to learn as much from as many different people as he could. So the next few years they went back and forth from my father in the Westerlands to Stannis Baratheon on Dragonstone and even went twice or thrice up to the Eyre and the Vale with Jon Arryn on buisness. But never again up north, unfortunately, I once asked Robert why and he simply said, „I would miss them to much, and they have already went once".

No matter to me, I got rid of them for extended periods of time and I could not have been more happy. Joffrey was perfect, Myrcella was perfect, Tommen was perfect, Robert wasn't bothering me much, Everything was perfect.

Until Jon Arryn began to stick his nose where it did not belong.

 **Wordcount – 2448 words**

 **Sweet – 5 times**

 **Perfect – 16 times**

 **Goldenhaired – 10 times**

 **First of his/her name – 6 times**

 **Wow, I really need to extend my vocabulary, anyway.. Peace Out!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Greetings folks, I am in a little of a crisis. You see I can't decide whether I should legitimize Jon Snow or not. I would appreciate if you would let me know your thoughts in the comments and if you have the time, why/why not he should be. Anyway here is the next chapter.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **A merry little band of assassins – (Robert POV)**

Ahh, the fresh and cold northern air. There is nothing like it and it is a welcome change to the stench in Kings Landing. It reminds me of Lyanna, sweet, beautiful Lyanna. Seven hells it has been long since I have been here, I only wish I was under different circumstances.

Why did Jon have to die now? Of all times, he couldn't just, well I don't know… just live. Now I am all alone in that snake pit and surrounded by lions, foolish lions. Especially those blasted cousins who squired for me once. What were their names again? Lyonel and Tytus, no. Lyell and Tobias, no. O seven hells I knighted them myself. Laurent and Tyrek, no, yes, no. At least one of those, I think, O forget it!

At least I will have Ned with me up here in the freezing cold. Yes and we can go hunting in the woods like old times. I can't believe how much I miss that frozen face of his, by the seven, I'm starting to sound like love struck maiden. Ewe, I will need lot of wine to clear that thought away.

Doesn't he have a few children running about? Well of course there is Robb, named after me that one. Then there is a girl, I think, yes and another one after that. Can't for the life of me remember their names. Then there is Brandon after Ned's brother and… is there another one? No, I don't think so, or maybe, no.

Maybe I could arrange a betrothal or marriage, yes now just who to who? I doubt I could ever manage to marry of Sheira, Hah! What a ridiculous thought, Sheira married, yes and the Others are marching on the wall. Then it won't be my namesake getting married. Is the younger Stark girl even at a marriage age yet, I'm not sure. Well then there is only the other one, now to Joffrey or Steffon? It has to be Joffrey anything else would be an insult to the Starks, good enough for royalty but not for the crown prince? Who isn't even married either!

This is so frustrating! This one of the many times I wish Steffon and Sheira were firstborn, Steffon would have made an excellent king, a great king even. At six and ten he can navigate the snake pit that is Kings Landing like an old pirate on the sea. He is quiet, yes, but he knows everything, I wouldn't be surprised if he put Varys out of his job soon. The boy looks like my younger self but has the political mind of his Lannister grandfather. Joffrey would do well listening to him once he ascends the throne.

And Sheira, my strong, fierce warrior princess. She just never seizes to amaze me with her endless progress and conquests. Well maybe not conquests but she has already been able to take on every knight in my Kingsguard and win, even Jamie Lannister and Barristan Selmy, though not with a sword. There Jamie Lannister still keeps his title as the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms. Jamie taught her though and now she can fight with almost any weapon, but she favours a two headed axe, a big and a beastly thing.

I remember when we were at Bitterbridge and we heard her screams. Such screams of anguish that both Ned and I froze before we looked down into the pit. And there she was, lying on the ground, the pool of blood becoming bigger and bigger. My five year old daughter nearing death before my eyes. I of course saw red and jumped in to kill whoever dared hurt my warrior, along with Jamie Lannister and Stannis, with Tywin Lannister already there, every single one of us feeling rage that would strike fear into the Stranger himself.

After killing those seven lions I turn around and only see a pool of blood but no signs of my daughter. I remember screaming out to all assembled that whoever took my girl would die. No one dared utter a word. The stilled silence was magnifying the tension in the air by the minute. I suppose we were a sight to behold, a very frightening sight to behold. The King Robert Baratheon, the man who started a whole rebellion for his betrothed and won and overthrew a three hundred year old dynasty. Tywin Lannister, the man responsible for the atrocities behind the Rains of Castamere and the sack of Kings Landing. Stannis Baratheon, the man who held Storm's End through a year of siege and is known as a fierce battle commander and Ser Jamie Lannister who, for all he is worth, is the best swordsman in all of the Seven Kingdoms.

No one still uttered a word, except Catelyn Stark née Tully. She stepped forward and said in a confident tone that Ned had taken Sheira to the master. Never have I been so relived. Sheira was safe with Ned.

When I found out that Lorent Caswell had pushed her in, I ordered his hand cut of and Tywin demanded the boy's father's head, which I gave him. I was to bloodthirsty b-myself to deny him. To have to look upon my daughter with bandages all over her face was a slow torture. Steffon became really protective of her then, never far away, neither was I for that matter.

I noticed that after the accident she really liked being held. I held her a lot, Ser Jamie to and she even managed to get Stannis and Tywin to hold her without complaint, but she liked best when it was Ned. That was a big part of the reason I sent Sheira and Steffon north to foster in Winterfell. But after a year away from them I could not take it, they were too far away. So they didn't go back, no matter how much they wanted. But they still travelled, it was just easier for me to visit them and they were gone shorter periods of time.

I remember an instance that Steffon came to me and asked if shoes could be made with a steel or an iron sole. I said of course but then asked what in the world he would need them for. He said that he wanted to have boots made with those kind of soles for Sheira.

She got them for her nameday present from her brother and once he had explained what they were she was ecstatic. I never understood why but boots with a steel sole are the only shoes she ever wears. The funny thing about that is that you can hear her from a mile away, at least I always know where she is.

Over the years Steffon and Sheira have collected a rather interesting company of people, lowborn and highborn, men and women, who they train personally. Those people, or teens really, have only three things in common: wherever they are from, they are outcasts. They have an unwavering loyalty to the twins and they all have a knack for killing. They also started the names that the twins are now called by the common folk, the Black stag for Steffon and the Blind stag for Sheira. Laughable but accurate names.

I hoped they would have come with me north but I overheard them fighting a week before we departed and understood their reasoning:

 _Flashback_

" _But Steffon, I want to go!" Sheira all but whines._

" _I know, me too, nut we have to think about the kingdoms, Sheira. We cannot just prance around doing whatever we want, whenever we want. We already have a king and a crown prince doing that and the former drinks and whores the taxes away meanwhile the other has a sadistic streak rivalling the Mad King's final years! Besides mother is going north and you would have to stay with her in the wheelhouse" Steffon replies in his steady but sharp baritone voice._

 _Alright, that one hurt but unfortunately is none the less true._

" _Steffon, you are supposed to make it easy for me leaving you here alone so I can go north." Sheira berates her brother in a huff._

" _And leave you out of all the fun? Sheira, what kind of a brother do you think I am? Have people kiss your ass, listen to Baelish prattle about how no money is left in the coffins, watching Janos Slynt prance around Kings Landing like he owns the place? Ha, Sheira? I'm just sharing the fun with my favourite sister. "Steffon teases and I can hear the smirk in his voice._

" _You are incorrigible!" Sheira shouts._

" _I know"_

" _Uggh! Fine, but who is then going to watch out for father from Mother and her little minions? Or the Starks? I could do that if I went." Sheira says with triumph._

" _Well dear sister, you got a point there." Steffon concedes._

" _Yes!"_

" _But can't someone from our 'merry little band of assassins' go instead? Say Hiker and Hunter?" Steffon counters._

" _O fine, send them." Sheira caved in and threw herself in the nearest chair with a loud thud._

" _Then it's settled, Hiker and Hunter shall accompany our father north and we shall try to fix a broken realm! Cheers." Steffon says cheerily and I assume drink from a goblet._

" _Steffon?"_

" _Yes?"_

" _We really should start drinking wine."_

" _I suppose it would make court life easier, but also shorter."_

" _Yeah, yeah. I know, poison can be tasted in water and not wine."_

" _Exactly."_

" _You are incorrigible."_

" _I know"_

" _UGGh!"_

 _There comes a pause so I assume they have stopped talking and am going to move away when Sheira ask again._

" _Steffon?"_

" _Yes?"_

" _We really need to find a better name than 'merry little band of assassins'"_

" _I agree." Steffon says and they laugh._

 _Flashback ends_

And that is how I ended up surrounded with four Kingsguard members and two of my twins' assassins. Hiker is a strange man, small and lean with green hair, I often wonder how, and all kinds of hooks and wires and ropes on him. Hunter on the other hand is a rather tall woman, covered in tattoos and armed with a bow and arrows, and a knife or two. Apparently she could 'track an eagle on a cloudy day' in Steffon's own words. But I know for a fact that these two are far from the strangest of the bunch. There is a man in that band of theirs that…

CRACK!

"Halt! The wheel is broken!"

UGGH! Again? Really? And I am watching Winterfell, we are so close. Well maybe now is the time for Joffrey to come and join me like a crown prince is supposed to.

"Selmy! Get Joffrey on a horse. He will ride in the front like the crown prince he is." I bellow.

"Yes, your grace." Barristan answers and goes to retrieve Joffrey from the wheelhouse.

Steffon would never stay in the wheelhouse, ono second thought Cersei probably wouldn't allow it. She coddles Joffrey way too much. It wouldn't surprise me if he cut his ass on the Iron throne on his coronation. Hah! If only I could live to see the day. My biggest concern is that Joffrey and Steffon will kill each other once I die, or hell, they probably would before. There is more hate between them than Dorne and Tywin Lannister.

Finally, the wheelhouse is fixed and there Joffrey comes and… By the gods old and new! He cannot even sit right on top of a horse!

 **Word count – 1927 words**

– **Peace out!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Greetings folks, another beautiful day completed with gray skies and never ending rain. Anyway,**

 **jazu10501** **: If I have enough patience it will be all over the place, but yes Robb will be involved one way or another.**

 **& Enjoy!**

 **And the wolves started howling – (Catelyn POV)**

King Robert Baratheon was... well for the lack of a better word, fat. Which was a great disappointment to the children, who had grown up to the stories of the great King Robert and their father fighting side by side and being unstoppable and all that. My thoughts begin to wander as I sit in front of the vanity and wait for Ned to escort me to the Welcoming feast.

There has been talk of the king wanting to marry Sansa to his son, Joffrey. Sansa is ecstatic, of course, and can't seem to think about anything else than that she will be queen one day. From what I've seen of the crown prince I dearly hope that Ned says no. The boy is arrogant and cruel and there is not a doubt in my mind that he will one day unleash it on my poor Sansa, that is to say if the union becomes a reality.

Sansa cannot handle that kind of treatment, she is so sweet and gentle and I admit a bit high in the clouds but still, her husband beating her should not be the rude awakening to the cruel and unjust world.

It amazes me how different Joffrey is from his siblings, Myrcella and Tommen are such sweet children. I was a bit disappointed that Sheira and Steffon didn't come. I would have thought this would be the perfect opportunity. I know that Ned was disappointed to, he wanted to see the twins again especially Sheira. She had become like another daughter to Ned and I after that horrid accident at Bitterbridge, and Steffon another son.

Ned and I were not the only ones let down. Robb, Sansa and Arya had all been waiting in anticipation for them. I quite wish that they had come. That year that the Baratheon twins were here Sansa and Arya got along famously, as opposed to now where they bicker over every little thing.

I miss those days. Robb, Jon and Steffon running around the halls declaring prank war on the girls consisting of many misplaced pranks and trickery. Ned and I took the brunt of those misplaced pranks but it was also received by some of Winterfell's efficient staff. Such as the bucket full of horse dung placed upon the door to the Lord's solar. It was intended to one of the girls as they were late to a family dinner but alas, the kitchen maid arrived before them and got the whole bucket over her and said dinner. Needless to say not much was eaten after that, though we did get a good laugh.

Yes, that was indeed an eventful year. Poor Jon took it personally when the twins didn't return the next year thinking that the queen had taken offence to him, a bastard, playing with her children. I remember being furious when Ned came home from war carrying a child that was not mine. I refused to talk to him but eventually he made me see reason;

 _(Flashback)_

 _I was sitting by the window in the nursery next to our chambers, the bastard insisted on it, holding Robb and pointedly ignoring the other boy. My bastard husband's bastard child. I hear the door opening but don't look up._

" _My lady."_

" _My Lord." I answer stiffly._

" _How fair my sons?"_

" _Your son is doing just fine, but I cannot speak for your bastard."_

" _Damn it all to hell, woman!" The Quiet wolf suddenly explodes, startling me and both the boys who start crying. Eddard pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few deep breaths before calling the nursemaids to take care of the boys. He grabbed my arm a bit forcefully and led me to our chambers._

" _If you would only let it go, this wouldn't have to be such a trial." He bites out between clenched teeth._

" _Let it go? Eddard, you dishonour me by siring another child. Then you humiliate me by coming with said child, another woman's child, into my home. Our home." I say begging him to understand the humiliation I am feeling._

 _Something flickers in his eyes that I can't quite catch, but then it's gone and then he steels himself again._

" _What is wrong with the boy that you can't raise him as your own, alongside our children?"_

" _He is the living reminder of your infidelity." I shoot back quickly. I'm not going to let him know the biggest reason._

" _I refuse to believe that is the reason. You are a Tully, you wouldn't abandon your brother's bastard, would you." Eddard almost shouts. I refuse to dignify the question with an answer, knowing he was right._

" _You know what people said to me when they heard I was marrying you. They said, 'at least this one will keep only to your bed' and, 'O, you are so lucky, he will give you everything your heart desires'. But they were all wrong. Do you know why? Because the proof of your infidelity is in the next room and you won't even allow me to get rid of him." I shout, almost all of my composure and refinement blowing out the open window._

" _Why do you insist on getting rid of him? It's not like he is in the way…" realization dawns on him. "You think he is a threat to Robb." It was a statement, not a question so I didn't answer. Instead I turned around and looked out the window, finally letting the tears flow freely. I hear fabric shuffle behind me and quiet, barely there, footsteps before strong arms encircle my waist and pull me closer to a hard chest._

" _You know, Jon will never take anything from our son." He whispers in my ear, pulling my hair over my shoulder and kissing down my neck._

" _I can't help it, but that is the way I feel." My voice shaking, equally from tears and pleasure._

" _But you can prevent all your fears, my lady. If you raise Jon as your own, you can make sure that he will never want for anything, even Robb's lordship." He turns me in his arms, wiping my tears away and looks straight into my eyes._

" _At least try it for me?" All I could do was nod, and I did try, and it wasn't as bad as I thought._

 _I thought that would be all. To say that I was surprised a few days later when he told the truth was the understatement of the century._

" _Catelyn?"_

 _I look up from the sleeping boys to see Eddard standing in the doorway, signalling me to come. I kissed both boys on the forehead and followed him to our chamber. I opened my mouth to ask Eddard what was wrong, but he beat me to it._

" _I didn't tell you the whole truth about Jon." He blurts out, his eyes begging me to understand._

 _The blood drains from my face. 'So she is alive after all' I think._

" _Who is she then? A tavern wench coming to claim the boy after all, or maybe a noble lady?" I ask sharply, my shock quickly turning into rage._

" _What… no! Catelyn you misunderstand, his mother is dead." He hastily replies._

" _Then what, pray tell, is it that I am misunderstanding?"_

 _Silence._

" _Well if you're not going to tell me then I think a lengthy visit to my father is due. I'm sure he'll love having his grandson so close." I turn swiftly around and begin to pack my things, surely the maids do that but I wasn't thinking straight._

" _Jon isn't mine!" I froze before turning slowly, ever so slowly around to look him in the face._

" _I beg your pardon?"_

" _Jon is not mine" He repeated_

 _My mind went into overdrive and I sat slowly on the edge of our bed, still clutching a grey winter dress. How was that even possible, Jon couldn't be mistaken for anything else other than a Stark. Benjen was too young and Jon was too young for him to be Brandon's. Eddard took my silence as a permission to continue._

" _He is Lyanna's," he said quietly, looking at the floor, and it suddenly dawned on me._

" _Rhaegar." I said in realization and Eddard nodded affirmative._

" _She died in childbed, I was there, but she made me promise one thing. One thing. And that was to protect Jon, no matter the cost." He explained, his voice loaded with emotions._

" _Robert would never have let him live knowing he were Rhaeger's." I stated, finally comprehending the sacrifice my husband made for his sister. My brave, loyal and honourable husband. I should never have doubted him. I stood up, leaving the dress on the bed, walk over to him and engulf him in an embrace. We stand there for a few minutes in the middle of our chambers, neither wanting to move, while Eddard got himself together. I looked up at him and he gave me a small smile._

" _Eddard, I don't know what to say."_

" _You don't have to say anything, and call me Ned."_

 _(Flashback ends)_

The gesture made my heart swell, and then I started noticing the small things. Like how Ned always referred to Jon as his 'blood' but not his 'son' and I understood his reference to my brother's supposed bastard, of course I wouldn't have abandoned it. If it were real, that is.

I often wondered if we should've legitimized him, but then again he wouldn't have the armour that he has today, armour for the world's cruelty.

It warmed my heart the day the boys came home from the deserter's execution, when every Stark got a pup, that Jon got one to, even if it was the rut of the litter. I was a bit apprehensive at first about the direwolves, I mean what mother would not, these are beasts from the legends. But they have managed to get me around and I quite like the idea of my children always having someone to protect them.

The door opens revealing my husband, looking quite uncomfortable in the newly woven doublet, which had a little more embroidery that he would normally wear. He gave me a little smile while tugging at his collar and I couldn't help it but I burst out laughing.

"Yeah, yeah laugh all you want, just get up, we are almost late." Ned says in a mock annoyed voice while he offers me his arm and we walk down to the Great hall.

* * *

 **(Brandon POV)**

Running down the corridor I clash into Arya and we both fall down.

"Watch where you're going!"

"You watch where you're going!" I counter as I rise and dust invincible dust of by trousers.

"Where are you going?" Arya asks curiously as I help her rise.

"To the courtyard, to watch everybody spar, of course"

"Me too, race you there!" she calls but doesn't give me a chance to answer as she takes of down the corridor to the courtyard.

"Cheater!" I yell as I run after her only to be answered by laughter.

When we get to the courtyard Prince Joffrey sparring with Robb and we watch while we climb up on two barrels to get a better view. Prince Joffrey doesn't get to many hits on Robb who is practically dancing in circles around him. I would have thought that a prince would be an amazing swordsman growing up with legends like Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Jamie Lannister, but his swings are so sloppy that I think even I could win him. Before long Robb aimed a precise swing at Joffrey's legs, causing him lose balance and making it a child's play to swiftly shove the prince to the ground.

The northerners cheered for their future lord, Arya and I the highest. Robb did a mock bow to the crowd before turning and offering Joffrey his hand to help him up. Joffrey effectively ignored him, standing up and dusting of his clothes before throwing his nose in the air and sauntering arrogantly over to his bodyguard, the Hound.

"Want a rematch Prince Joffrey?" Robb asks with a satisfied grin on his face.

"I am bored by swatting at Starks with play swords, let's try real steal!" Joffrey says with a malicious grin.

"No, I forbid it. Real steel is too dangerous. You could get seriously hurt." Ser Rodrick says firmly.

"What, are you northerners not tough enough for real steel? Are you going to run crying to mommy if you get a scratch?" Joffrey mocks Robb, who is seething as the Lannister soldiers' chuckle.

"No he won't my prince, he is simply afraid you will. After all it was him hitting you with play swords and not the other way around." I hear called from my left. I look left seeing a false cheery smile on Hiker's face as he runs a hand through his green hair.

"Indeed my prince," I turn to my right, watching Hunter continuing where Hiker left off in a feigned concerned voice. "Have you thought about taking up a less physically demanding sport, say sewing? I'm sure the Princess Myrcella would be more than happy to teach you."

At that every northerner in hearing range burst out laughing and Joffrey stormed of red-faced, muttering something about telling his mother.

* * *

I love climbing. Mother tries to make me stop but she just doesn't understand. Climbing is freedom like no other. Sometimes I can imagine being a bird just soaring through the air, not a worry in sight.

I climb the old tower, which is barely more than ruins, easily. This will be the last time I climb the walls of Winterfell before I leave with father to go south, maybe I can climb the Red Keep in Kings Landing. I perch on a window sill halfway up and look over to the Wolfswood. I can't see a glimpse of the hunting party. Maybe if I get higher I can see them. I start climbing again but as I get higher I start hearing strange sounds. They get louder and louder the closer I get to the top window. The sounds are some kind of moaning or groaning.

But nothing would have prepared me for what I saw when I finally got my feet on the window sill. A blond woman in an elaborate red dress, decorated with refined golden stitches under a blond man dressed in just as extravagant red and golden clothes, or maybe half dressed. At that moment the woman opens her eyes and looks straight at me.

"Stop! Stop I said!" She yelled at the man who finally looked up. I just stood there frozen to the window, until I saw the man coming towards me but I wasn't quick enough and he got a hold of me.

"He saw us." The woman said while trying to cover herself.

The man ignored her and looks down at the ground below and then back at me.

"He saw us!" the woman repeated.

"I heard you the first time." The man tells the woman in an arrogant voice. "Quite the little climber aren't you. How old are you boy?" he asks me.

"Twelve."

"Twelve?" he repeats and releases me slowly. The man then looks at the woman and says; "The things I do for love." Before pushing me out the window.

Time seemed to slow down as I plunge towards the ground, I couldn't even scream, just a little gasp escaped my mouth. My mind was preparing itself for the inevitable as my body brazed itself for the impact. But halfway down I felt a strong hand grabbing my leg tightly. The solid hold on my leg kept me from going further down, even so it only managed to hurl me into the tower wall I just climbed minutes earlier. I barely managed to bring my arms before me so my head escaped mostly intacked.

But it didn't end there. The impact of me hitting the side of the tower only served to make my rescuer lose his balance and he tumbled out the window after me. I roughly remember being enveloped in a firm and solid yet soft embrace before a resounding thud and a crack were heard.

And the wolves started howling.

 **Word count – 2716 words**

– **Peace out!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Greetings folks!**

 **gangui** **:** **Thank you for pointing out the obvious. I am well aware that in reality, you cannot fight if you are blind. That being said, this is fiction. More so this is MY fiction, making me the God of this alternative universe, so what I say, goes. Also, Sheira's ability to fight despite being blind is not just a spur of imagination, there actually is a bit of calculated thought behind it. My model for Sheira was Toph from** _ **Avatar, the last airbender**_ **, who could see through earthbending or feeling the vibration of the earth. That is how Sheira is able to locate people and things around here through others movement. That and of course sound, touch and instinct. That is also the reason for the specially made boots, because iron and steel enhances the vibrations instead of blocking them like leather and other fabrics do. And that, with the help of fiction, gives Sheira the ability to fight.**

 **Now back to the story. A short chapter but,**

 **Enjoy!**

 **The Beggar King – (Daenerys POV)**

The hot air blows around me as I stand on the balcony overlooking the Narrow Sea. The same sea that separates me and my brother from our homeland. I often wonder what it's like over in Westeros. Is it hot or is it cold? Are there different customs? Clothes? Are the people really waiting for the Targaryens to come and take the realm back from the Usurper with fire and blood? So many unanswered questions along with so many unsatisfying answers. The kind of answers that make you want to ask more questions.

Magister Illyrio has been a great host and assures us that the people of Westeros are indeed waiting for our return. Viserys eats it up but I think it is all lies. I think there must have been a reason for the Usurpers rebellion. From my perspective there is always a reason behind people's actions. People give gifts to gain favours or exchanges favours but never just submit of the goodness of their hearts. People are too ambitious.

I have also heard people on the streets calling my brother the Beggar king. It is another point against Magister IIllyrio's argument. It hurts and saddens me to hear people say that about my brother but I suppose it is kind of true. Being shipped of away from home as children, by Targaryen loyalists, and then tossed around the Free Cities of Essos. Mostly on the street, therefore sometimes needing to beg to get food. Not that Viserys was any good at that, he didn't beg. He demanded the passer-by's to give him, the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms, food and money.

Magister Illyrio has been kind enough this past year to educate us on some of the noble houses of Westeros. That of course answered some of my questions but not thoroughly and it is different from reading about it and actually experiencing it. Viserys only wants to learn about definite ally's and ignores everything with the mention of Stark, Lannister, Arryn, Tully and Baratheon. A foolish move from where I am standing. Ignoring those and you ignore more than half of the realm. So I took it upon myself to study them and the more I studied them, the more fascinated I became.

The Baratheons, one or two generations married a Targaryen princess. They have more royal blood in them than any other current noble family in the realm so it is understandable that they sit on the Iron throne. Then there is the legendary Baratheon temper that is as common among the Baratheons as madness is amongst Targaryens. No wonder they have the words, _Ours is the fury_.

The Arryns, living high up in the mountains in one of the most impregnable fortresses in the whole realm, the Eyrie. _As High as Honour_ , kind of ironic as they live so high up. Maybe there is more honour up in the sky than down on earth.

The Lannisters, originally only a castellan but attained Casterly Rock from the Casterlys only through trickery and a few well chosen words. The Lannister family is most definitely sly but somebody has to, otherwise we risk the balance of the world. _Hear me roar_ , indeed boisterous words since they seem to favour using shrewd intelligence than loud and obvious tactics.

The Tullys, a most interesting house. Their land is very ill paced as they somehow always host battles and wars, even those who they are not dragged into. But they do have a unique technique to save themselves from the most damage. And that is through marriages. _Family, Duty, Honour_. Important words but most people do not see the strength in that.

The Starks, probably the most intriguing family of them all, the Kings of Winter. Bran the Builder, building the wall with the help of giants and wildlings. King Thorren, the king who knelt, saving thousands of his people by giving up his crown. _Winter is coming_ , the North as whole lives by those words, as the Starks are always right in the end.

The Starks never fought a meaningless war, unless you count the Bolton rebellions, but never in the south. That is what troubles me. The Starks stayed out of southern conflict. They strike me as the kind of people that will stay out of it unless summoned by their governor, who in the case of the Usurper's rebellion, would've been my father, the king, or being directly offended. And I often wonder what would have offended them so to take up arms in a southern rebellion.

There are of course the Martells and the Tyrells, the only ones of the great houses that my brother considers a certain ally. They also have fascinating stories. The Tyrells like the Lannisters started as castellans and became the greatest house in the Reach, not through trickery like the golden lions, but trough loyalty to my ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror. _Growing strong_ , prickly words for a prickly bunch, or so the gossip around the harbour says. I think that the Tyrells would not be such trusted allies in the long run if it didn't benefit them.

And lastly the Martells, _Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken_. Dorne has stayed exactly that. As the only part of the seven kingdoms that Ageon could not conquer through force. The Targaryens since have though concurred Dorne in a sense, through marriage. Fascinating how they allow women to fight and rule by themselves like in the North, they are surprisingly the alike when you think on it. You probably should not tell a Dornishman that, or a Northerner either, who knows what would happen.

I giggle to myself.

I of course would never dream of ever bringing up my concerns to my brother. I don't want to awaken 'the dragon'. Have done that enough times and it never ended well. I feel for Westeros if Viserys ever becomes king. Then come another problem, if Viserys became king, he would need a queen and by Targaryen tradition that would be me. I don't want to be Viserys' queen, I don't want to become queen at all.

I just want a castle, not necessarily big, just a castle and a caring and a strong husband. I just want to be loved and protected and far away from my brother. Maybe we could have our castle close to the ocean, I always loved the ocean. Maybe we could live at Dragonstone? That was once the Targaryen's ancestral seat. Oh and if I had a dragon. That would be amazing.

 **(Steffon POV)**

This is not good, not good at all. I stride down the corridor with the letter in hand, looking for my sister and uncle. Mother is getting too reckless. Attempting to murder a child, it's just like Sheira and that blasted lion pit. Luckily whoever it was wasn't hurt too badly. I open a door on my left leading me into the Small Council chamber and find uncle Stannis there waiting for me.

"What is the matter?" He asks gruffly as he stands up from the chair.

"Well, hello to you to uncle. Beautiful day don't you think, perfect for a cruise." I answer happily as I sit in the chair opposites him.

"I do not have time for silly courtesies. I came here because your message sounded urgent so you either spill it or I'm leaving." Stannis bites out and grinds his teeth.

"When do we ever have time for silly things, uncle," I say with a false sigh and push the letter over the table.

Stannis raises an eyebrow at me in question before picking it up and reading it:

"'The Lioness strikes again, protecting her cubs. Attacked a wolf pup protected by a Lion in the wolves' den. The Lion lies motionless while the pup circles it and the alpha strays south.' And what lion protects a wolf?"

"I have a theory, but it contradicts your theory." I answer solemnly.

Before we could proceed further we could hear the tell-tale sound of stone against metal and before long the door slammed open, revealing a very joyful sister of mine. Sheira skipped happily over to Stannis and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Greetings my jubilant uncle! Isn't it a beautiful day today? I'd say it be perfect for a cruise." She says while walking around the table and patting my head before sitting on the chair at the other end of the table and throwing her feet up.

"Don't you agree brother?"

"Yes I do. As a matter of fact I believe I just said the same thing not ten minutes ago." I banter back, already in better mood.

"Really? Well great minds think alike and all that, isn't that right uncle?"

"Have you ever thought about property and how a princess is to behave and dress?" Uncle Stannis changes subject more out of mirth that any seriousness.

"Uncle! I would never have believed it, but you're are starting to sound like mother!" Sheira exclaimed much to Stannis' displeasure of being compared to the Lannister woman.

"But if you truly want then I will repeat what I tell her to you. I will wear my leather trousers along with my cotton shirt under my leather coat which matches my specially made leather boots, all while covered in dust from head to toe, as long as she lives and breathes. Now I am sure we are way of topic so I ask, what happened?"

I stretch across the table to get the letter and read again; "The Lioness strikes again, protecting her cubs. Attacked a wolf pup prote..."

"The bitch attempt a murder on a Stark child!" Sheira shouts outraged as she jumps of the chair, sending it flying backwards, not allowing me to finish.

"I believe I said Lioness but I suppose we are talking about the same person." I answer lightly.

"And the question still remains who the Lion is." Stannis persists. "And Steffon was just about to share his newfound theory."

"What lion?" Sheira asks Stannis confused and I roll my eyes as I finish reading the letter to her.

"You don't think?" She asks hopefully as she rounds on me.

"Yes actually, I do. I think that Uncle Jaime is the Lion." I confirm and have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at the rare look of bewilderment on Stannis' face.

"Then who?"

"Who cares, it's not Jaime!" Sheira says and seems to be only barely stopping herself from dancing a little victory dance.

"Sheira, we need to know who or we can't prove anything. It's a good thing that it's not Jamie but if you listen to the second part of the letter then you can hear that…"

"Jamie is dead?" she asks in a small voice and the heartbroken expression on her face makes her look so much younger and more fragile than she really is.

"No Sheira, just motionless. A coma or badly broken bones, but very much alive and kicking." I say and envelope her in a hug.

"But hey, you haven't mentioned the best news!" I add.

"What news?" Sheira asks confused and Stannis looks at me expectantly, like I had kept anything from him.

"'the alpha strays south'" I say expecting them to catch on but they just stare at me blankly, well Stannis stares at me blankly, Sheira just stares blankly.

"Uncle Ned is the Hand of the king!"

 **Word count – 1914 words**

– **Peace out!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I am really sorry for the long wait. I actually feel really guilty for neglecting you guys but my excuses are really just summed up in a few words: Exams, Birthday & Funeral (unfortunately).**

– **Anyway Enjoy!**

 **If you wanted to sound sincere – Eddard**

We finally stopped at the Crossroad Inn after a long week on the road. There really should be more inns along the King's road. Such long travel is not comfortable. Sansa of course is eating up the attention she gets from the Queen and Prince Joffrey. And Arya, being Arya, is probably swimming in mud somewhere.

Luckily Bran has been on his best behaviour. Makes it much easier to keep my promise of keeping him out of trouble. Cat really didn't want to let him go with us after his fall, but Maester Luwin's declared him being in full health and Bran was even more adamant of coming. Bran's fall really scared me and Cat.

 _(Flashback)_

 _When the messenger came rushing through the forest and told me Bran had fallen I didn't let him finish talking, I was already halfway back to Winterfell. So when I came and saw Bran awake and sitting on his bed, Cat hovering around him, with just a little bandage around his forehead and his arm in a sling, I breathed a sigh of relief._

 _Both Bran and Cat looked up when they heard me come in. Bran looked at me desperately and asked me if I thought he would live. I was very confused as to whom he was talking about, so I asked him to elaborate._

" _Ser Jamie, he caught me before I hit the ground. Do you think he will live?"_

 _To say I was surprised was that Jamie Lannister had prevented my son's fall from being worse was a shock but I had never been as glad for the Kingslayer as right then. I of course said I would go and ask the Maester._

 _I saw what could have happened to Bran when I walked into the chambers assigned to the Kingslayer. And the shock knocked the breath out of me. His skin ashen and clammy, face gaunt and his chest bandaged like there was no tomorrow. All those bandages threw me back to the incident at Bitterbridge, of Sheira after the lion's attack._

 _I still stood there frozen, right inside the doorway when Maester Luwin came into the room. I looked lost for a minute before managing to squeeze out._

" _What is his condition Maester?"_

 _Maester Luwin looked at me sadly before saying:_

" _Not good my lord. He has eight ribs broken and a big gash on the back of his head. Luckily his spine is not fractured so he should be able to get on his feet again in time."_

 _Maester Luwin busies himself with checking Jamie's temperature and bandages._

" _But..." I prompt cautiously, not sure if I want to know._

" _I am not sure if he wakes up, my lord." He says quietly._

" _And..." how much worse could it get?_

" _And he could suffer a memory loss, quite a lot of memory loss as a matter of fact."_

 _(Flashback ends)_

Maester Luwin also said that if Ser Jamie had not been there to take the brunt of the impact, Bran could've easily lost the use of his legs, or worse died. Simply put, been in worse shape than Ser Jaime. The thick winter cloak he had on clearly softened the fall.

The Queen was distraught and when Robert presented the idea that they could leave the Kingslayer up in the North to heal, she went on a rampage. She threw things around and shouted that she would not leave her twin brother amongst the savage northerners, among other things.

It was hard not to take it personally but then I remembered, she was a Lannister.

Luckily for her, three days later Ser Jamie woke up, a little confused and disoriented but a lot less than Maester Luwin had feared.

The Queen, of course, demanded we leave at once for King's Landing. That led to a very loud discussion between her and Ser Jamie about him riding a horse back to King's Landing. He did not get what he wanted and now sits in the wheelhouse with his sister, her children and the ladies of the court who came north. And judging by how he always is in a bad mood after a long day of riding, I imagine it is not fun for him.

We are camped outside the Crossroads Inn, because we couldn't all fit inside. I know Sansa went on a walk with the prince, Arya is somewhere with the butcher's boy and Bran is practising swordplay with Ser Barristan under Ser Jaime's tutelage.

Suddenly Sansa bursts inside the tent crying and throws herself at me.

"Sweetheart what is wrong?"

"Arya, sh-she alwa-ays ruins ever-erything!" Sansa sniffs. I should have known.

"I will talk to her." I say soothingly.

"That isn't going to anything! It never does anything." She cries.

Before I could answer a guard interrupts us, reporting Arya's disappearance. We searched for an hour without progress before we regrouped to go over a new plan. In the middle of planning Hunter appears out of the treeline, Arya in tow. Our little reunion did not last long as Robert had called us to his tent because of his son's injuries which had been inflicted by Arya's direwolf, Nymeria.

Listening to Prince Joffrey's side of the story I had a feeling not much of it was true besides him taking a walk with Sansa. Hearing Arya's side justified that feeling. Arya has always told the truth, preferring to not talk at all rather than lie. But when Robert called in Sansa, I had half a mind to stop the whole thing. To be in between ones family and ones betrothed, is a position no girl should be in.

"But what of the wolves?" the Queen asks as Robert was preparing to stand up.

"I had forgotten about the damned beast." Robert grumbles as he sat again rather ungracefully.

"We didn't find the wolf, Your Grace" a guard says.

"Then the matter is solved!" Robert says jovially preparing to stand again.

"There are two other wolves in camp." The Queen says slyly.

"Cersei, those wolves haven't done a thing." Ser Jaime intervenes, trying to placate his sister which makes me grateful, considering the explosion that happened amongst my children at those words.

"She doesn't mean Lady, does she? No, Lady is good! Lady has never hurt anyone!"

"Summer hasn't done anything. I'll keep him in a chain, please just spare him!"

"Leave them alone, they didn't do anything! It was Nymeria not Lady or Summer."

"Wow, I really hit the high of the party." At the sound of the voice everyone stops and turn to the tent opening. There stands Sheira clad in a long, black leather coat with golden trimming over equally as black leather trousers and high boots. Her scars have faded a lot from ugly pink to white which stands out on her tan face. Her long, Baratheon black hair tied in a simple braid down her back, where a big two headed axe rests and at her side stand Hiker, Hunter and… is that Nymeria?

"Did somebody lose a pet?" Sheira asks with a grin and gestures to the wolf.

"Nymeria!" Arya shouts happily and runs over to hug the wolf. Sheira then turns to the rest of the tent before asking lightly;

"So what is up?" and clasping her hands.

"Sheira, you are just in time. You see the wolf you found, was escaping justice and now him and the rest of his rut are going to die." Joffrey says smugly. Sheira just stares blankly in the general direction of the prince. Then shakes her head sadly and says:

"I feel sorry for the Seven Kingdoms with you being the crown prince Joffrey, you don't even know what is up. For the record the sky is up but since we have already established that, I'll ask what is going on?"

Joffrey, who turns an unattractive pink, angrily splutters something uncoherent before his mother takes over.

"Your brother has just been attacked by that beast and it and its precious pack mates are going to be slaughtered." Her voice like venom. There was a defining silence in the tent, waiting for the princess's reaction to the proclamation of murder to her foster family's pets.

"Is that your verdict father?"

"Aye."

"Then you wouldn't care if Steffon had your Warhammer melted down to coins for the small folk? Hiker do you have a paper? Can you write the letter? Great! Hunter bring the wolf!" Sheira orders as she turns around and walks towards the entrance, grabbing her axe from its sheath. Hunter grabs the wolf from Arya's grasp. Arya starts kicking and screaming for her wolf as a guard grabs her and holds her still.

Sheira's words shocked me to the core. Did the sweet young girl, who wanted nothing more than command her brother's armies and demanding justice for the innocents, really changed that much. So much that now she doesn't even take notice of anyone's feelings, only to inflict death and satisfy her own thirst for blood.

"Sheira!" Robert calls warningly across the tent making Sheira turn.

"Oh sorry father, Hiker can you add to the letter to make sure the ruby from Rhaegar's armour gets placed in the headboard of the king's bed, that is alright, right father? Good then that's finished, Hunter where are the other wolves?" Sheira half-askes, half-tells Robert, who is quickly getting angrier.

Sheira shrugged as she turned yet again and makes her way out of the tent, holding the axe over her shoulder. But before she could fully leave the tent, Robert stands up and booms;

"Sheira Baratheon, you stop right there!"

Sheira stops as all the people flinch at the high volume before turning to Robert.

"Yes, your grace?" Sheira asks mockingly.

Robert looks around, breathing heavily, before zeroing in on Sheira.

"Leave it." Robert says in a commanding tone.

Sheira turns, sheathing her axe and walks over to Hiker with her palm outstretched. Hiker gives the briskly written letter to her and she proclaims;

"Last chance."

"Aye, leave it." Robert repeats with a hint of defeat in his voice and the look on the Queen's face is murderous.

Sheira makes a big show of holding the letter over a burning torch, eventually burning it. The silence is stifling as everybody waits for the next move.

"Drop the wolf."

At the sharp command Hunter drops the wolf instantly. Sheira gives Robert a nod before turning and finally making her way out of the tent, Hiker and Hunter close on her heals.

* * *

I told my children to go to my tent and wait for me there while I took care of some business. I thought that it would never come to this and I admit, I have been putting it off. It is just weird to think that a Stark would ever thank a Lannister for anything. When I arrived outside Ser Jamie's door I took a deep breath before knocking three times.

I heard some grumbling and the Queen's name before the door was wrenched open and the knight stopped midsentence.

"You are not my sister."

I was momentarily stunned. He thought I was his sister. How?

"Then again she wouldn't knock, she would just march in like she owned the place." He continued bitterly. I just continued to stare dumbly, at a loss what to do.

"So what can I do for the Hand of the king?"

That brought me out of my stupor. I awkwardly shifted on my feet before clearing my throat.

"I wanted to thank you. Umh, for what you did, I mean for my son. Umh, I mean for catching him when he fell." This was not going good at all.

A slow smirk spread across his face at my words.

"This is not easy for you, is it? Well the least I can do for you after that strenuous act is to offer you wine, please do come in."

He walked over to the table and pored wine into two goblets. I hesitantly stepped inside and closed the door before walking over and taking the offered goblet and seat. There was an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before Ser Jaime took a big swig of his drink and said:

"You know, your son, Brandon was it? Yes, he reminds me of myself when I was younger."

"How so?" I was curious now. I could not see much alike between them.

"I used to climb all over the Rock when I was his age, when I wasn't training that is. Those were my two passions, climbing and fighting. I went against every rule father ever set about it. I mostly climbed to escape those tortures lessons with our old cot of a Maester or, may the seven help me, the septa."

Jamie chuckled and took a swig from the goblet. For a second time that night I was stunned. Could nothing be straight forward south of the Neck, first Sheira then Ser Jaime, what was next? Steffon ruling the realm? Or better yet the Others are marching the Wall.

"Don't look at me like that. You must have done something like that to, you cannot have always had that stick up your ass."

I frowned but deigned to comment on it. Instead I chose to open up a bit in return.

"When we were younger and Lya was sick, Bran and I used to ransack the kitchens at nights for sweets for her. She loved the Lemon cakes, but she could rarely indulge in them." I finished sadly and stared into the wine.

"You know, I don't think I ever got the chance to offer my condolences for what happened. I am really sorry about your family Stark."

I looked up into his face and saw only sincerity and empathy. Maybe I judged him too quickly. Maybe he has some morals, I mean not everybody jumps out of a window after a falling child.

He raised an eyebrow as I smirked at him and said;

"You know, if you want it to sound sincere it is better to say _Eddard_ or _Ned_ instead of _Stark_."

 **Word count – 2356**

– **Peace out**


	6. Chapter 6

**Happy New Year! I know it has been a while and it is a bit on the shorter side, but I'm suffering from a tiny little writers block. I now where I want the story to go but I don't know how but hopefully I will be able to get past it soon.**

 **iitrnr** **: Thanks for pointing it out, I totally forgot about that part. Hopefully my explanation will be satisfactionary.**

– **Enjoy**

" **Home, sweet home" – Jaime POV**

Well, who would have thought Eddard Stark would be fun to drink with. I am starting to see what the king sees in him. Shame about his kid, I heard from the Maester that Bran hadn't gotten seriously injured but he suffered some kind of a guilt infused trauma that blocked most memories surrounding the fall and left the rest hazy. The poor kid. I would have loved to know what happened to caused him to fall, the walls weren't slippery.

"Sheira is quite something isn't she?" Ned's question brings me out of my brooding.

"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet, trust me." I say smirking. "But she is still that compassionate and caring little girl you knew, underneath all the sarcasm and tough exterior. Don't worry about it."

"I'm not so sure. She acts so different, she looks so different!" Ned complains expatriated.

"Of course she is, she grew up."

"Why? Why can't they just stay little and without worries and duties and responsibilities." He heaves a big sigh.

"I have a feeling you are not just talking about Sheira."

"No I'm not."

I take a gulp of wine and gesture for him to continue, preparing myself for a long night.

"Robb is old enough to take over my lordship of Winterfell while I'm away, and that is just another reminder that I have to find a suitable match for him. Well Sansa too for that matter, she is fifteen, but I guess I have already done that. She will be queen." He rants and takes a big gulp of wine.

"A good boy you have raised there. I have no doubt he will do you proud. But regarding your elder daughter… Well, in my humble opinion you could have done a better match than Joffrey, even though now she will be queen. But that doesn't strike me as something you would do. Marry for power. Not like… well any other Lord in the Seven Kingdoms." I interject.

"It was for Sansa. She wanted to marry Joffrey and be his queen." Ned says sombrely.

"Not the best taste in men she has, that one." I mutter.

"And I worry for her. She is a sweet girl but she isn't ready for King's Landing." Ned continues, thankfully not hearing my comment.

"Yes she is. Hopefully nothing will happen since she will be under good watch." I say encouragingly but involuntary shudder at the thought of either my sister or worse, Baelish, getting their hands anywhere nearer to the girl than they already have. Ned studies me thoughtfully for a long minute and I start to squirm under his gaze. What could possibly be going through that mind of his? Luckily I didn't need to wait long but I still wished he would have just kept it to himself.

"You can keep an eye on her around your sister."

"I…I…" I was at a loss for words. Sure I could, it wasn't exactly a hard job and most definitely not unpleasing on the eyes but… "Would she allow it?"

"I don't know. Possibly because it is not my men that are smothering her every step. And you could stop your sister before she went too far." That was true but my concerns were more reserved for Baelish, because I didn't know how to keep him away. Maybe Steffon or Sheira could help with that.

"Sure, why not. It can't be that difficult." I say jovially. I have apparently drunk to much wine.

"Then you have my thanks." Ned answers relived. There was a short silence that descended upon us but it was not uncomfortable. After a minute a thought came to my mind that I felt the need to express.

"What about the younger one?"

"Arya, my worst headache. Don't get me wrong I love her to bits. It's just that she is… well wild. Wonderfully so, even if a bit difficult at times. I just can't think of a single man or boy that could possibly handle her or where she would be even remotely happy."

"I hear Robert is having the same trouble with Sheira on that matter. I imagine that your little wildling could always join Sheira and her 'merry little band of assassins'."

Ned looks at me thoughtfully for a long moment then ask;

"'Merry little band of assassins'?"

"Yes, like Hiker and Hunter."

"There are more of them?" Astonishment colouring his tone.

"Yes, there is. I believe they are nineteen or twenty now, I'm not entirely sure, maybe more. Interesting characters, Hiker and Hunter, but not the most interesting by far. Compared to some individuals of that group, they can be described as dull or normal." I laugh and Ned chuckles disbelievingly.

"Deadly group," I continue. "Each more dangerous than the last, I tell you. And under the leadership of Sheira." I shake my head. "Let me put it this way; whoever has Sheira on his side of the battlefield is guaranteed the victory of the war."

Ned's eyes widen further and he hesitates to drink more wine.

"She has studied battle strategy under the tutelage of Tywin Lannister and Stannis Baratheon, what do you expect. I believe she even learned a thing or two from Randyll Tarly that one time he was summoned to King's Landing. She navigates the battlefield just as well as Steffon navigates the political snake pit known as King's Landing."

* * *

 **Arya POV**

Sheira is just as fun as I remember. She got along well with Nymeria and Sansa even managed to tear herself away from her _precious_ Joffrey to come and join us for a few talks to catch up but anything else was to unladylike for her to join.

I was really looking forward to meeting Steffon again. From what Sheira says he has changed a bit more than her but is still fun. I don't think Sheira is lying, she is not like Joffrey or the Queen. She asked after my brothers, Robb and Jon. I told her that Robb had to take over fathers duties as Lord of Winterfell and Jon went to the wall, to which Sheria responded with a muttered 'the bloody idiot'. I couldn't help but agree.

A few days ago I asked Sheira if she could teach me to fight with Needle. She got really confused until I showed her the little sword Jon got me. Then she laughed, really hard.

"What?" I asked confused, "Sansa got her needles and I got mine."

That caused her to laugh even harder and finally when she calmed down she patted me on the shoulder and said:

"Good name, good name. Of course I will, but only if your father agrees."

I was elated. I ran to my father and asked him so fast that I had to repeat myself. And of course show him Needle because he didn't believe I had a sword. After a lot of begging and promises and a chat with Sheira, he allowed it. We started right away and even though Sheira warned both me and father that training with her would not be easy, well let's just say that that was the understatement of this century and the next.

But even though it wasn't easy it was fun, like jumping on the stones in the river without getting wet while balancing a pole and two buckets filled with water on my shoulders. Or doing twenty push-ups every time I failed to do something right away or questioned Sheira. I know she doesn't mean anything by it, it's just the way she trains her soldiers, both Hunter and Hiker said so, and I kind of asked for it, no special treatment.

When King's Landing came into view the whole riding party kicked their horses in hopes to get there faster. I was in awe of how big the whole city was and so much red. I looked to Bran and could just see him looking at the high towers and bouncing in anticipation to start climbing them.

The novelty of the city quickly left when we got closer and could smell the stench of the city. Oh, by the gods it smelled worse than Old Nan's chamber pot.

"Home, sweet home!" Sheira said sarcastically with a sly smirk playing on her lips.

"What do you think, do you still doubt me when I say Winterfell is far better than King's Landing?" , she asks me and Bran. I was inclined to agree with her, Winterfell never stunk like this. I wasn't sure if I could live in the city.

 **Word count: 1497 words**

– **Peace out!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Greetings folks! Finally I've manage to finish this chapter. I am having trouble with the next one too but the one after that is mostly finished. I know, strange how my brain works.**

 **DalysanneSnow** **: Sheira is completely blind in the traditional sense. Meaning eyesight is non-existent. However she has developed the talent to pinpoint things and movements through the vibrations of the earth, hence the steel-sole boots, as metal enhances vibrations. Think of when you are in a room and there is a group of children running by out in the hallway and the house shakes.**

 **Anyway…**

– **Enjoy!**

" **Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?" – Eddard**

Looking at Steffon was like taking a step back in time. Or I assumed it was Steffon, the boy looked just like Robert did his age. Standing tall and proud in the courtyard, ready to greet us as we came through the gates of the Red Keep. Robert was first to step off and eagerly went to Steffon, exchanging a few words. Hopefully it would be as easy to reconnect with him as reconnecting with Sheira.

Thinking of Sheira brought a small smile to my lips. It turned out that Ser Jaime was right about Sheira still being the little girl I knew. When I came back to my tent that night I found her talking animatedly with Sansa, Arya and Bran. Then she greeted me with a tight hug and a gleeful shout of 'Uncle Ned', just likes she did when she was younger.

She apologised for the manner of which she arrived in and how she handled the wolf matter but I simply shrugged it off, understanding her reasoning. Robert was not the man he used to be.

The following days we rekindled our friendship and it really felt like I had lost a daughter all those years ago and just now I was finding her again. Even Sansa and Arya put aside their differences to be able to be with her. Then one evening at supper, Arya asked if Sheira could train her with her sword. I was very confused because I didn't remember Arya being gifted a sword.

She then showed me this thin miniature sword that looked like it would break at first swing. She said that Jon had given it to her as a parting gift and she wanted to have some skill to wield it. To protect our family, she said. I had a little chat with Sheira and she agreed to train her but warned us that it would not be easy, rather gruesome actually, and she would show no favouritism.

Arya readily agreed and that was how she spends her time when Bran is with the knights doing his own training and Sansa was with prince Joffrey or the Queen, during the rest of our travels south. I have to admit, some of the things that Arya is doing are a bit strange to me. It is not included in castle training to run five times around camp at dawn every morning.

Robert' call of my name brings me out of my musings as I look over to him. He stands by Steffon and waves me over. I walked over to them while taking in my surroundings. The Red Keep hadn't changed a bit since I was here last, still just as red and extravagant. The ground littered in cobblestone and a few guards posted along the walls.

"You remember Steffon, don't you Ned?"

"Of course, how could I forget the boy who single handily managed to turn all the sheets of Winterfell lily-pink?" I say lightly and held out my hand for him to take.

"Hey, it was Bolton pink and it was never proven." Steffon said teasingly in a low voice that reminded me a lot of Lord Bolton. Steffon didn't whisper but he didn't talk in a normal voice either. He took my hand in a firm grip and gave me a grin that was just as I remember it. Excited, happy and full of mischief.

"Are those real wolfs or just really big dogs?" Steffon asks and gestures behind me.

"Those are neither." Steffon looks at me strangely. "Those are Direwolves."

"Truly?" Steffon asks astonished.

"Aye. Found them in the woods, got one for each of my children. Those are Sansa's Lady, Arya's Nymeria and Bran's Summer." I answer, pointing to each in turn.

"Wow, surely they will get bigger right. I mean, I always imagined Direwolves to be the size of a warhorse." Steffon says in awe of the creatures.

"They will grow, yes, but I'm afraid they won't get that big. A little over a man's waist I believe." I answer and wave my children over to greet the prince. The last worries over reconciling my relationship with Steffon melting away.

Of course our little reunion was cut short as a young servant asked for my presence at a Small council meeting taking place now. I would have thought they could have at least waited for me to oversee our belongings to the Tower of the Hand but none the less I started walking to the Small council chamber.

To my surprise, Steffon dismissed the servant boy and led the way to the Small council chamber himself, striking up conversation on the way.

"So, how is aunt Cat doing these days?"

"She is doing just fine, a couple of grey hairs but nothing health threatening. She was a bit hurt that neither you nor Sheira came North. In fact we all were."

"Yeah, we really wanted to go but we had work to do here." Here I raised an eyebrow. "You will understand after the council meeting. But on another note, how are Robb and Jon and what is his name, Rickard?"

"Rickon." I correct automatically.

"Rickon, my apologies. I have yet to meet him. Still amazes me that you convinced aunt Cat to have another one after Sheira corrupted Arya." Steffon comments chuckling.

"Yes, because you had nothing to do with that." I answer wryly.

"Who, me? Little innocent me? Never!" Steffon says in mock outrage and hurt and lays a hand over his heart for good measure. But it does not last long as we both laugh heartily. It truly is amazing that Steffon has changed so little. Once we calm down I answer his question:

"Robb is doing great. Finally found a prank to get back at Sheira for the clothing incident."

"Only took him ten years. But the clothing incident was a good one."

"Yes it was." I pause for a second as a frown crosses my face. "Jon has gone to the Wall" I say sadly. That caused Steffon to stop walking altogether. When I turned around his face resembled that of a fish on dry land.

"He did what?"

"Jon has gone to the Wall. Don't worry, he's not to take the vows right away. There will be training first and getting used to the environment. And who knows, maybe Jon doesn't like it there and goes back to Winterfell." I say reassuringly which only earns me a raised eyebrow.

"He is a Stark uncle, he won't leave the Wall unless he is dragged from there."

"I suppose that is true." I conceded as we started walking again. "But what of you, any news? Betrothals, perhaps?" I ask teasingly.

"Not much of news really, I attend council meetings. Uncle Stannis says that I better be in good practise once Joffrey ascends the throne. But as for betrothals, it has been discussed. Now that Joffrey has been betrothed then I expect I won't be far behind. I think the Lady Margaery Tyrell is the highest on the list. I think I would enjoy having a wife that can speak for herself and perhaps help me keep the realm together. Who better than the Queen of Thornes' granddaughter."

"You, attend council meetings?" That surprised me. A prince' duty was rarely to attend meetings or take any active part in the ruling of the realm, unless of course the Crown Prince. They usually only partook in the training of the knights and the defences.

"Yes, I do. Father hasn't attended more than three council meetings in all his seventeen years of ruling so I do it for him. Joffrey isn't going to, and I doubt that will change after he has become king. Stannis thinks that I will be appointed to the council when Joffrey is crowned king and I should be prepared to clean up all the messes that my brother will surely make just like Stannis is doing for his brother." Steffon says confidently.

I was a bit stunned, I didn't think about that. Surely the realm wouldn't be in an entirely bad shape when that would happen. And another thing, three council meetings, in seventeen years? How is that possible, surely it was a jape. A very bad jape at that.

We walked into the throne room, which was completely empty. The big golden room feeling even hollower and gaudier without any people in it. As we walked across the room I couldn't help but look up at the Iron Throne, remembering the day so many years ago, that I stormed the keep and found Ser Jaime Lannister sitting up there, the Mad king Aerys dead at his feet. Ironically the memory didn't represent the same disgust for the knight as it usually did. I suppose it is all about attitude.

We went through a side door at the back of the room and entered the Small council chamber, where I was greeted by every member of the council. Even Stannis Baratheon greeted me rather warmly, for him at least. We have never seen eye to eye because he felt I had stolen his brother, Robert, away from him.

I was a bit surprised at what I saw. I imagined the Small council would be… I don't even know what I expected, but what I saw was definitely not it.

Petyr Baelish, Master of Coin, was an old friend of Cat's, but I couldn't shake of the feeling that something was not right about him. The way he looked at me, with the barest hint of hate in his eyes, which I have no idea on how I earned. I have only heard of the man, never met him before. His lips curved into an arrogant and triumphed smirk, like he knew in great detail, all of the skeletons in your closet, so to speak.

Varys, Master of whispers, was pleasant enough and probably rather useful, but like Baelish very secretive and I got a headache just thinking of all the riddles he was sure to bestow upon me instead of straight answers in the coming moons.

Grandmaester Pyselle was an old and a frail man who looked like he already had one foot in the grave. How he was still here was beyond me. I imagined he had to be at the same age as Walder Frey who was steadfastly outliving most of his brood.

Renly Baratheon, Master at Laws, though he looked impeccable in elaborate, dark green, silk clothes, which oddly enough reminded me of the Queen, he still managed to look like he just came out of bed after a long night of drinking.

After seeing the council I understood why Steffon felt the need to attend council meetings. This was barely functional, which was reflected when it was revealed how much debt the crown was in. Four million gold dragons! Three of which was oved to the Lion of Casterly Rock. The last million was divided to the Tyrells and the Faith. How had this happened? But that was not all. No.

The tip of the iceberg was the tourney that Robert wanted to throw in my honour. How did he expect us to host the bloody tourney and not drive the crown further into debt? I was at my wits end.

* * *

After the meeting Steffon accompanied me to the Tower of the Hand.

"How could Jon have let this happen? Four millions in debt?" I had a really hard time wrapping my head around this. Steffon gave me a grim smile.

"Jon did what he could do with a broken realm and tourney loving king. I could have been worse. My sister and I have been doing a bit of trade and odd businesses, mostly undermining Baelish, in the last couple of years. The money we gather is mostly put into paying back that debt. If we hadn't then you would be roughly six millions in debt and having to deal the Iron Bank."

"Six?" And I thought it couldn't get worse. Then something dawned on me. "Mostly paying debts. Where is the rest of the money?"

"So you picked up on that, ha? The rest is put into secret emergency savings, hopefully never to be used." Steffon said smugly.

"For warfare, rebellions and such?"

"And starvation." Steffon adds.

"Where?" I ask, truly curious about the location of the money. Where could be a safe enough place to hide them?

"Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?"

 **Word count: 2084 words**

– **Peace out!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Greetings folks! How about we "vindum okkur í þetta", like we say where I'm from.**

– **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Welcome to the wall – Tyrion POV**

The North truly has a deadly beauty about it. Frozen, cold and deadly beauty. And steadily getting colder. It surely couldn't get colder, is what I think every day only to be proven wrong the next. All this traveling, almost freezing of my cock in the process, only to see the great Wall. Sometimes I doubt it will be worth it but yet I cannot find it in myself to turn back, so I steadily find myself moving further north than any man should. Stark's brother and bastard are so alike that it is disconcerting. Both have the typical brooding Stark looks, dressed in black and barely answer questions. Not the best traveling companions in my humble opinion. In the silence I am forced to occupy myself, watching trees and snow pass by and more often than not am I left alone with my thoughts. A scary place if let roam free, which it does with the absence of anything remotely stimulating.

Stimulating. I would love to have something stimulating for my overachieving brain. A place on the Small council would no doubt go a long way. Unfortunately there are already too many Lannisters at court so Robert is not going to hand a position on the Small council to one more. Joffrey is his mother's puppet and Cersei will sooner bed a Stark than give me a seat. Steffon on the other hand would no doubt give me one. Maybe he will manage to convince his brother to give me at least the Master of Coin.

Steffon. Truly a shame he isn't the heir. The boy looks like a Baratheon but is so much Lannister, minus the cruelty of course, that it just is funny. Watching Cersei and Steffon having a go at each other is very entertaining to watch. Most of the time Steffon wins, obviously, but that is most to blame Cersei's tendency to overestimate herself. She thinks she is so much smarter than she actually is.

When thinking about it Sheira is the only true Baratheon regarding both looks and character. Tommen is too quiet, Myrcella is too sweet, Steffon too cunning and Joffrey is too much of a brat. Not even Renly is that much of a brat and he was almost equally as spoiled. But Sheira, Sheira has the temper, the thirst for battle and a damned single minded determination to protect what was hers. An admirable trait, which she shares with her father, but none the less dangerous one. Especially with the fragile relationship between the twins and Joffrey. If you could call what they have a relationship.

It would seem war is inevitable at one time or another in Joffrey's reign. Robert started a war because Prince Rhaegar took HIS betrothed. Joffrey is sure to do something to push the twins over the line and rise against him. It would be interesting to see who would support who? I suppose the Starks would either stay neutral or support Steffon. Even with Lord Stark's admirable sense of duty I cannot see him supporting Joffrey. But then again his daughter will be queen, maybe he will. And that greatly diminishes the chances of a war. Neither Steffon nor Sheira would willingly inflict ham upon a Stark.

I wonder who my father would support. It is no secret that he doesn't like Joffrey. 'A vain, self-centred princess' I believe was my father's impression on crown prince Joffrey. It wouldn't surprise me if he rallied to Steffon. He always was fond of the twins, more than most believed him capable of. I actually wouldn't mind ruling the Rock, it is mine by laws of Gods and men. Shame my father doesn't see it that way. He is adamant that Jaime is his heir and before long he will come and take his place. He tends to forget that Jaime is a Kingsguard, sworn to never take a wife or hold any titles.

I would be happy to step aside for Jaime if it so miraculously happened that he was dismissed from the Kingsguard or something. I believe that Jaime would be an excellent Lord of Casterly Rock, better than my father.

A sight of pure solid white startle me from my never ending musings. I looked to both sides and saw the same white stretch as far as eye could see. The closer we got to it the bigger it seemed. The solid white looked tall from a distance but the as we drew nearer looked more and more monstrous in size and magnificent, holding an unearthly charm to it.

"Is that…?" I manage to utter, completely speechless by the sight in front of me.

"Aye, Imp. Welcome to the Wall." Benjen Stark answers gruffly while his nephew joins me in gaping our astonishment. Well, at least it will be quite the adventure pissing off the edge of the world. I can't imagine it being easy getting up there.

* * *

 **Sansa POV**

I can't believe it is here. The tourney is today. Finally will I be able to go to a real tourney. With lots of knights and pretty dresses. I cannot wait any longer.

These past week has been so perfect. Joffrey and I have taken many wonderful walks in the gardens, who are so beautiful. Joffrey didn't do them justice when he told me about them. Joffrey is so gallant and handsome, I just know that we are going to have many beautiful golden-haired babies. Our sons will be brave and gallant and so handsome that every girl in the Seven Kingdoms will fawn over them and want to marry them. And our daughters will be so beautiful and kind that every man in the Seven Kingdoms and across the Narrow Sea will be fighting for their hands in marriage. There will be songs written about their beauty.

I take my seat with my sister, brother and father at the front row, very excited for the joust to begin. Ser Jaime Lannister was the first to compete against some Frey. The Queen was so angry that her brother was going to compete. She said that he had just been injured and needed to rest more. There is not everyday people fall from a tower and survive, or jump from towers, I suppose.

They charged and I held my breath, fisting my hands in my dress as they drew closer and closer together, readying themselves to ride the other down. There was a defining sound of wood breaking and a loud thud as the Frey collided harshly with the ground. I let out the breath I was holding and cheered with the crowd.

Many jousts were competed and every one was exciting. Ser Jaime went to the finals along with Ser Loras Tyrell and the Clegane brothers. Lord Baelish came and sat beside me sometime in the middle of the day and told me the horror tale of the Clegane brothers. That a beast like Ser Gregor is still alive is so unfair.

Ser Loras also came and gave me a rose before he went to fight in the last jousting of the day, against Ser Gregor Clegane. It was not a pleasant feeling that I had while watching them go at each other. I screamed when Ser Gregor took the head of his horse and then went and pulled Ser Loras of his horse. I was glad that Sandor Clegane stopped his brother before he could kill another knight.

It was an exciting day even though it didn't end on a very pleasant note. I was looking forward to the feast and dancing that was left and I hope there will be many more jousts and feasts to come. Perhaps Joffrey will compete and I can give him my favour.

* * *

 **Word count: 1296 words**

 **I know, I know it is an awfully short chapter. I hate it to, but I just couldn't find anything to write in it. I promise I will make it up to you guys. Peace and love?**

– **Peace out!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Greetings folks, I will be introducing a few members of the infamous 'merry little band of assassins' for the first time in the chapter so I thought I should at least give you a little introduction to, hopefully clear up a few things:**

 **Hiker & Hunter (of course) – you all know what they do… at least I hope you do.**

 **Altheda Heatherspoon (** _ **Althy**_ **) – House Heatherspoon is a knightly house, bannermen of the Lannisters. Althy is the 'maester' of the group.**

 **Captain Keel (** _ **Cap**_ **) – captain of Steffon' ship,** _ **the Black Stag,**_ **and a former pirate.**

 **Timoleon Beesbury (** _ **Tim**_ **) – House Beesbury is bannermenn of the Tyrells. Tim is the Camelion, blending in everywhere.**

 **Shadow – She is the one that can practically travel between shadows. She will be here one minute and the next, she is gone, or you won't see her at all.**

 **Bronn – Because where else should he be.**

 **Fakko, Fejo & Vorso – Dothraki brothers. (To spice things up a bit) Each one of them has a different 'talent' of sorts. **

**And please note that these are not all the members of the merry little band, there are still a few more.**

– **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Well that escalated quickly – Sheira POV**

I really do not know what is wrong with father. If uncle Ned wants to go home, he can go home. Especially if it is for the safety of his children.

I walked down the Street of Steel to pick up my new knife collection that I ordered, thinking over the little incident that Janos Slynt caused outside one of Baelish' whorehouses. I think I need to stop by the harbour, see if I can get uncle Ned and the little wolf pubs out of this blasted snakes pit somehow. Steffon says it is a Viper's nest but I firmly believe that it is not because for it to be a Viper's nest it would have to have a viper residing in it. And the Red Viper still lives in Dorne as far as I know, so snakes pit it is.

I find a ship who is willing to take _'the great lord Stark'_ and _'his wonderful children'_ up North with his next shipment, which unfortunately won't leave for another week at least but it is still something. I am in no hurry.

Shame that Uncle Stannis had to leave for Dragonstone two days ago and he took all of his fleet with him. If he would have waited one more day he could have taken Uncle Ned with him and even gotten him a ship to White Harbour. But it does no one good to hang on the past.

I skip happily up the street leading to the Red Keep, enjoying the day and stopping here and there playing with children, talking with people, giving a few coins to the beggars.

* * *

I cannot believe it. My father, my strong undefeatable father is just lying there in his bed, waiting for death to claim him. We were saying our final goodbyes and Father giving us some reassuring words to take with us into the future. Our father may not be a poet but he can be pretty damn inspiring when he wants to, how else could he have rallied more than half of the realm behind him into open rebellion.

Little Tommen is openly crying as he holds onto our father's hand, probably gripping so hard that his knuckled turned white like it would keep our father here longer. If only.

"My brave little Tommen. You will be a great knight someday, fighting dragons, protecting the innocent. Just remember who your family is, they will always come first." Our father says, breathing heavily and pats Tommen's hand.

Tommen swears he will do father proud and starts crying so loud that it is becoming increasingly more difficult to hold back my own tears. He then lets go of his hands and joins mother outside, where I can hear her reprimanding him for crying. "Princes should not cry."

Myrcella steps up next and sits by father, her sobs somewhat subdued for the time being.

"Myrcella, my beautiful lady Myrcella. You will become a great lady someday and your beauty will be envied by all. I am sorry that I cannot see for myself and don't have the privilege of striking down every boy who is not worthy of you but I suppose I will have to leave that for your brothers. You have three of them for a reason. And if they cannot help you I'm sure Sheira will be happy to teach them a lesson or ten."

Of course I will, nobody touches my sister against her will or even with her consent.

A tear slipped down my cheek and I hastily dry it away but it still did not go unnoticed by Steffon. He lays an arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer to his side, offering comfort as Joffrey steps to take Myrcella's pace by our father. Myrcella having retreated outside the room.

"Joffrey, you are the king now. You better do a better job than I ever did. The realm is on your shoulders now but remember, you will not have to bear the burden alone. You have your siblings, Steffon and Sheira, they will prove to be your most valuable allays if you put aside your differences and bury the hatchet. You three could be a force to be reckoned with."

A force to be reckoned with? We don't need Joffrey for that, he would just get in the way and no doubt thwart all plans we make somehow with his recklessness and selfishness.

As Joffrey left the room, his sniffling high-pitched like a little girl and leaving us alone with our father, Steffon pulls me with him to father's side. We sit on either side of him and lay down with father's arms around us, much like he did when we were little and had nightmares. Those were the times when he would kick out any whore that was with him without a second thought and stayed up with us the whole night, making sure we were safe. Father started stroking my hair soothingly and that was when my damns broke. I cried hard mourning the time we should have had and whishing we could repeat the time we did have over the years. The fighting lessons, the long nights we had nightmares, the time father sneaked us pastries and let us sit on the throne with him.

He might not have always been there to kiss away the pain of every little scrape we got in the training yard or fussed over it being too cold outside and to go and get something warmer but he was there when it mattered. He was there at Bitterbridge when I go pushed. He was there when Steffon and I got nightmares. He was there when Steffon was afraid of the storms. He was there when Steffon and I beat King's Landing's Master at arms for the first time. He was there at every nameday. He might not have been the perfect father but he was mine and Steffon's, and for that alone, to us, he was the best father in the world.

I vaguely heard Steffon cry on the other side and father humming an old Stormlands' lullaby. A lullaby he used to sing for us and that only made me cry harder, clutching my father's side. I had lost all sense of time so we could have lied there for few minutes or few hours but eventually I calmed down along with Steffon and we just lied there, cherishing the moment. Memorising fathers smell of old, worn steel and wine, a strange combination but to me it was comforting, calming.

"I know you two will do what is best for the realm." He started quietly. "I know it will be hard but please, try to be civil with Joffrey. And keep him from making a mockery of himself."

"Mockery, a long word father. Are you sure you know what it means." Steffon whispers teasingly, his voice thick from crying. We all chuckle softly.

"Very funny boy. But I am serious, your mother has her claws far too deep in him and will drive Westeros to the ground far more than I did. I need you to be his voice of reason. Steffon I know you can do it, you speak that flowery language of court. And Sheira you might not be able to do that but you can squash any rebellion that will rise because of his foolishness and mother. I should have spent more time with him, gotten him away from his mother." Father says regretfully.

"There have been many times that I wished you two were my firstborns, far less worries for me and the realm. You, Steffon, would not have made a good king, but a great king. You thrive here in court and all that Lannister cunning shines in your eyes every time you are there. I have no doubt that you could bring your brother to heel if you could lessen your mothers hold on him."

I feel the bed shake a bit and just know that father has ruffled Steffon's hair then grabbed him and kissed the top of his head, like he had done many times before to both of us. A rare show of love from our father but one that was most welcome and treasured.

"And you, my little warrior princess, the world would have bowed at your feet if I had let you lose with a few thousand men. You make me so proud. Despite your blindness you manage to push through and come out on top. You go above and beyond people's expectations and prove yourself worthy. I know that no invaders or rebellions will be tolerated under your charge and most definitely dealt with swiftly."

This time he ruffles my hair and kisses atop my head. In response I hug him harder, hopefully not making his wounds worse but it is not in the forefront of my mind.

"You two make me so proud. I may not care for your mother, seven hells, I may not like her at all, but I cannot hate her. She gave me my most treasured possessions, you two. And for that I put up with her endless nagging. But now it falls into your hands to protect our family, by all means necessary. We are Baratheons, stags and we will not cower in fear. You will keep our family safe. I have never been more assured that we will prevail as now. Our enemies will know our fury." Father says strongly and squeeze our shoulders.

"Ours is the Fury." Steffon and I reply and a sad smile plays on my lips.

"That's right, they will. You will make sure of that. Now go and send Ned in, I want to speak to him." Father says as he kisses our foreheads for the last time.

Steffon and I walk to my chambers in silence. The atmosphere is heavy and neither one of us know how to proceed. My chambers are in a hallway were every other door is a room for my 'merry little band of assassins' so as we walk past they all step out of their rooms, lay a hand over their hearts and bow their heads 'til we've passed. Their way of offering condolences I suppose. We barely acknowledge them and simply walk aimlessly by. When we get into my chambers I stop at the door, at a loss to what to do.

Steffon closes the door sombrely, it's almost like the castle can pick up on our grief and grieves with us. Before long Steffon steps around my four-poster bed and takes of his boots.

"Sheira."

The low whisper seems to echo unnecessary loudly in the silence but none the less I walk over to my side of the bed, take off my boots and weapons and lie next to him. The bed shakes a little when Steffon shifts onto his side and takes my hand. I turn to face him and we clutch each other's hands like a lifeline, silently crying ourselves to sleep to the sound of ringing bells, signalling the end to King Robert Baratheon's reign.

* * *

We woke up the next morning to multiple armoured footsteps approaching. We got really confused and hurriedly put on our boots and weapons. We stepped towards the door as the footsteps stopped and the leader seemed to be in a heated debate with Bronn, one of my assassins. A former sellsword but I managed to get him to my cause. Steffon opens the door just a crack so he can watch the proceedings and we both hear it better.

"Let me pass, The King orders that prince Steffon and princess Sheira report to the throne room immediately." One of them was saying.

"And his grace sent dozen Lannister men to fetch them, fully armed and armoured? I seem to remember that his late grace, King Robert, simply ordered one of his squires to fetch them and they came quite quickly." Bronn said in his laid back manner, no doubt using a knife to pick dirt from underneath his fingernails.

Lannister men? What? Whatever is happening cannot be good for either of us, or the Starks. We have to get out of the city, and quickly.

"Steffon can you signal Hiker to come to us?" I whisper, the gears in my brain going a mile a minute trying to formulate a plan that won't get any of us killed. I feel Hiker slowly retreating to his room and walking to his window and I assume that Steffon managed without causing suspicion. There are many of my men are standing in the hallway, faking nonchalance but ready to strike should I give the order. That is good. But it still doesn't help with an escape route. Damn uncle Stannis. He would have been a great asset right now.

Hiker drops soundlessly to the floor from my window and I walk over to him just to be sure our conversation doesn't get overheard from the outside.

"Reports." I demand, hoping that my men at least had the decency to monitor the proceedings of the night that I completely forgot about in my moment of weakness. To my relief they did, but none of them found out good things.

"Joffrey sits the Iron throne. The Queen Regent made sure to have his coronation last night. She has ordered Lannister men to arrest the lords and ladies of court she deems traitorous during the night in utmost secrecy. The Starks remain untouched for time being, though there have been doubled guards outside lady Sansa's door, all of them Lannister men. Also a few of Lannister men went to the courtyard of the Tower of the Hand, carrying crossbows. Hunter managed to break the wolves' chains before they got hurt and they now roam the castle, mostly unseen." Hiker says in a conflicted whisper.

I stood there, mouth agape.

"But we were only asleep for few hours!" I whisper furiously. Hiker doesn't answer my outburst, knowing he wasn't meant to. This is steadily going downhill. We have no choice but to flee but the changes of everybody getting out alive are getting slimmer by the second.

"Alright, half of the band, not including Bronn, Fakko and Vorso, under the command of captain Keel go out to the harbour and prepare _the Black Stag_ to sail. Be on standby just north of the Winch Towers. Tell Altheda to seek my uncle Jamie and tell him to get Sansa Stark out. Shadow and Timoleon will go and get Arya Stark and the all the wolves they can find. You will take Brandon Stark with you down the walls and the rest needs to be ready for an emergency evacuation." I say strongly praying to the Old Gods that most everyone will get out alive.

"Aye." Was the simple answer before Hiker jumped out the window to follow my orders. I walk back to Steffon's side and hear, to my relief, that Bronn is still making life difficult for the Lannister soldiers. The Lannister man is clearly at the end of his rope as he is threatening to kill Bronn and my men. That only causes laughter to run through my ranks. Hiker steps out of his room and goes straight to _the Black Stag_ 's captain and whispering my orders in his ear.

Steffon closes the door as quietly as possible but I feel Captain Keel walk down the corridor with half of my men following him. Hiker steadily makes his way around the hallway giving instructions and then leaving down the corridor. Now that everyone has their orders we can only pray all will go well.

"What will we be doing?" Steffon asks me.

"We will go to the Throne room. We cannot leave the king waiting." I say with false cheeriness and start walking towards the door only to be stopped by Steffon' hand gripping my upper arm.

"Have your senses taken a leave. Perhaps lounging on some beach on the Summer Isles? He has dozen, armed Lannister soldiers outside the door waiting for us. If we won't die on the way to the throne room we will in it."

"I know but Uncle Ned will be there. We need to get him out and I don't know how to sneak in and out of there in this mess. At least he is giving us one way ticket for free. We will just have to pay the other way."

Steffon grumbles under his breath but grudgingly agrees and checks his sword before we step out of the room, the argument immediately coming to a halt.

"Prince Steffon and Princess Sheira. I have been tasked of escorting you to the Throne room where your brother, the King, has asked for your presence." The leader says.

"Of course Ser, lead the way." Steffon says and begins to walk down the corridor only to be stopped by the soldiers.

"Unarmed." The leader adds smugly.

Before Steffon could explode into a fit of Baratheon temper, which was kind of ironic considering that usually it is Steffon saving people from my temper, I quickly took my battle-axe from its sheath on my back and threw it upside down to Bronn. I admit, I was hoping that we would get to have our weapons but I suppose we could just get some in the Throne Room.

"Like we would hurt our brother, our king. But if it makes you feel better." I say loudly, waiting for Steffon to relinquish his sword.

Then four men turn and walk down the corridor while the rest pushes us to follow them. I wave the rest of my 'merry band' to stay, hoping that they understood my message since it was a new one I have been working on. There were four men that positioned themselves on our sides and the rest behind us. As we trekked the long way to the Throne room I heard Steffon hiss in my ear:

"What are you doing?"

My, oh so clever answer, which was more likely to get us killed than not:

"Improvising."

* * *

I knew Uncle Ned was inside the Throne room before we entered the room. He apparently had brought some of the gold cloaks with him along with his northerners but what for I had no idea.

"Brother, you called for us." Steffon said calmly and we both bowed our heads in acknowledgement as we got to Uncle Ned' side, not bothering to go further.

"It's 'your grace' to you, Steffon." Joffrey spat.

"Of course your grace. Lord Hand, what has happened?" Steffon asks Uncle Ned, hoping to get some information on the crisis we seem to find ourselves in.

"King Robert…" Uncle Ned begins but is interrupted by mother.

"Late king Robert."

"Late king Robert," Uncle Ned amended. "Had written a letter, which has been confirmed to be legitimate of Ser Barristan Selmy, which put me as active regent until his heir came of age."

"Was it worded like that? His heir, not Joffrey specifically?" Steffon asked and I could hear the excitement in his voice. Finally something going our way.

"Yes, his heir. Joffrey wasn't specified." Uncle Ned confirmed. "Which means you, Steffon. You are Robert' trueborn heir."

"Lies, all of it lies!" Mother screeches from above, presumable the side of the Iron throne itself.

"Steffon, Sheira, I am truly sorry but there is no easy way to say this." Uncle Ned starts and I wait with baited breath for whatever he is going to say. Millions of scenarios cross my mind. Was my father murdered and not just killed in a hunting accident. Did Joffrey order the murder to ascend the throne? Did mother order the murder? Where are Tommen and Myrcella? Did they kill them to?

"Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen are not your full siblings. They are bastards born of incest of the Queen and her brother."

It took me longer than I care to admit to register the words. Of course I knew it all to be true, except the father being Uncle Jaime. Wait, Uncle Jaime!

"We know, Uncle Ned. Except Uncle Jaime isn't their father." Steffon said sombrely.

"Lies, filthy lies. Slynt, arrest these traitors!" Joffrey shrieked jumping from his seat.

Immediately the gold cloaks and our Lannister escort drew their weapons and turned on us. My first instinct of course was to shout out orders to the northerners:

"Step in tight, weapons at the ready!"

To my immense relief the northerners didn't hesitate to follow them and quickly made a protective barrier around me, Steffon and Uncle Ned. Where were Bronn and Fakko when you needed them? The gold cloaks had yet to advance but they kept circling us, like we needed a reminder that we were surrounded. It was then I smelled the faint smell of smoke, steadily getting stronger. At least Vorso hadn't abandoned me. The men on the left side of the room took a few steps backwards. The right side following suit.

"Retreat."

The sharp command jolting the northerners into action and quickly overpowered the few unlucky Lannister men that got caught in between the lines of flames, only losing one man. When we crossed the threshold of the giant doors, we were met by Vorso, Fakko and Bronn, the latter of which handed me back my axe and Steffon his war-hammer and sword. We ran down the corridor, ducking behind tapestries and statues to avoid guards. We got to a dead end shortly after where the northerners got a bit disgruntled.

"You two grew up in this castle, you should know the dead ends from the exits." One of them said angrily.

"Yes, we did grow up in this castle. Therefore you will have to believe me when I say that this is an exit and not a dead end." I say as I pull at one of the smaller stones, twist it to the right and push against the wall. The passageway exposed probable was rather dark but Vorso briskly fixed that with one of his many fire tricks. Steffon led the way and I made sure to close the wall securely behind us before I joined the men.

"Report."

"Cap has gotten _the Black Stag_ into position and awaits his passengers. Hiker and Brandon easily scaled the eastern tower all the way down along with the cliffs. Shadow had two of the wolves and managed to get them on board the ship while Tim has Arya Stark waiting for us by the boats. Althy got word to Ser Jaime but could not find the last wolf." Fakko said in his usual gruff manner.

"Do you know which wolf is missing?"

"The light grey one." Bronn answers.

"That is Lady." Uncle Ned says.

"Well then let's hope that she is with Uncle Jaime and Sansa." I say as we get out of the cave and onto the small patch of sand at the bottom of the cliffs.

"Father!" Arya exclaims.

The reunion doesn't last long as we hear footsteps approaching. Damn Varys, was all I could mutter. Hurrying to the small boats we quickly get them out into the bay and are well on our way before I heard the shouts of men. I hate being on sea because that is the only time when it truly bothers me that I'm blind.

We avoid the few arrows that had been shot at us and get safely aboard _the Black Stag_. There another joyous shout of "Father!" comes in the form of Brandon Stark. Captain Keel came to my side and asked for permission to set sail.

"No, Sansa is still not here." I say.

"Sheira, we need to leave. They are already preparing to send a got portion of the royal fleet at us." Steffon says.

"But Sansa…" I repeat.

"I know. I don't like it any more than you do. At least she will have Uncle Jaime. He will get her out even if it is to grandfather." Steffon replies leaving little room for opposition. Steffon gives the command to set sail and the crew hurries to fulfil the task. Shouts of ships approaching or arrows being readied and fired ring across the ship but it all passes me in a blur as I sink down onto the deck.

I sit there, my head in my hands, trying to come to terms with the fact that I failed. I failed one of my oldest friend, my sister in all but blood. I failed. I'm startled out of my pit of despair by a strong hand on my shoulder.

"It's not your fault, Sheira." Uncle Ned tries to reassure me.

"But it is Uncle. Don't you see? I failed. I failed a girl I consider a great friend, a sister. I failed my family!" I shout, tears starting to fall from my eyes. "I'm a failure, utter and complete failure."

"You are not a failure, Sheira. Sheira listen to me!" Uncle Ned takes both of my shoulders, drags me to my feet and gives me a good shake. "You are not a failure. What you did today was amazing. You accomplished something remarkable. Under your command every one of my men, save for one, got safely out of King's Landing. You got your brother, the rightful king of Westeros out of the city. You got two of my children and their wolves out. You did not fail." Uncle Ned finishes fiercely.

"I got two out of three." I answer solemnly.

"But like Steffon said, she has Ser Jaime. He has already proven to me that he won't let anything happen to my children if he has a say in it. She is safe. You made sure of that." Ned continues in a softer tone and pulls me in for a tight hug. The man is like a second father to me and Steffon. Naturally he will never fill the void my father has left but maybe he will be able to help us reduce the pain.

A little while later no ships were pursuing us and we hold a steady advance to Dragonstone. The crew feels safe to have a little break from all the excitement and is now sprawled across the deck in silence, thinking over the past few hours. Of course it had to be broken by Bronn' witty comments sending all passengers into a fit of laughter.

"Well, that escalated quickly."

* * *

 **Word count: 4409 words**

 **It became a little longer than I thought it would be but hey, more for you to enjoy! Until next time,**

– **Peace out!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Greetings folks! This was originally a part of last chapter but I felt it was too long together. Anyway, lets get right to it.**

– **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Forgive me – Jaime POV**

When I was approached by Altheda so early in the morning, I was worried. When she told me of her message I was more scared than I would have admitted. If Sheira deems it necessary to flee the city, things must be bad. I had no qualms against getting the little redhead out of the city. She is a lovely company and very proper, even a little too proper,but a rare gem non the less. Unfortunately such a jewel is sadly wasted on my prick of a nephew, Joffrey.

I quickly finish putting my armor on and walk briskly up to the Tower of the Hand. Turning down the corridor, that I know hold Lady Sansa' chambers, I was confused at seeing four Lannister guards instead of two Stark men. None the less I stride confidently up to them.

"I am here to escort the Lady Sansa to the Queen." A big lie but a convincing one.

"We are under strict orders from the King that no one shall enter or leave unless with the King's written permission." One of the guard says. Well that complicates things considerably.

"But the word of your Queen, does that count for nothing?" I say haughtily.

"Our orders are directly from his grace, King Joffrey. We will follow them." Another guard says.

"Then I suppose I will just go and tell my sister that she cannot have her tea with the Lady Stark because her guards denied me entry." I say and turned around before finishing the circle. "I don't suppose you will tell me your names, will you? It won't look so good if all I can tell her about the guard is that he wore red armor." I add with a cocky smirk.

I walk away, the guard's name in hand, trying to formulate a new plan when I smell the faint scent of smoke. I swiftly follow it into the Throne room where long and thin black lines from either side of the door into the middle of the room. Clearly Vorso was at his tricks again. Inside the throne room though is a hassle. Joffrey is screaming at the top of his lungs something along the lines of 'catch my traitorous brother' and 'bring me their traitor heads'. Cersei is trying to calm him down, and failing horrible, while ordering the guards to extinguish the flames. Guards running around trying to extinguish what little left is of the flames and running to get the 'traitors'.

I decide that I have no time to deal with my demanding and dramatic sister and silently retreat from the room. I hurry down hallway after hallway until I come to a secluded part of the keep with a view of Blackwater Bay. Confident that no one will disturb me while I formulate a plan, I look out at the view and see Steffon' ship, _the Black Stag_ , halfway out of the bay followed by two smaller ships that are clearly trying to catch them.

Well it seems that I will have to get Lady Sansa out some other way. Apparently Joffrey and Cersei wasted no time. Maybe I should send her to my father in Casterly Rock. At the very least she will be treated kinder there than here. Now who can I trust with that? Addam would do perfectly, but unfortunately he isn't in the capitol. Damn it all to the seven hells, I will have to do it myself.

I turn away from the window, making a mental list over everything I needed and who I could take with me. My best chances are under the cover of darkness, so I will have to break her out tonight. With that in mind I stalk confidently to my chambers to begin preparations.

* * *

Later that evening, dressed from head to toe in black and my sword on my hip, I stroll lazily up to the Tower of the Hand knowing that soon there will be shift change with the guards. I duck into a side room to avoid detection until after the shift change and resign for a little wait. I look around the room and freeze when my emerald green eyes meet a pair of yellow ones. The wolf slowly comes closer and I see that it is, little Gem's, I mean Lady Sansa's. Lady, was it?

Perhaps I should take her to, I saw that Sheira took the other two. It would be better and Joffrey will only put the magnificent beast to death, after a little torture of course. I spy a quill and ink along with a scrap of paper lying around and quickly scrabble a note to my father, alerting him to the situation at hand.

Lady starts nudging her head against my back and I scratch her behind her ears wondering how to fit a half grown Direwolf into my escape plan. Then I remembered the younger ones talking with their wolves like they understood them and thought to hell with it.

"Lady, I need to ask you to do something. It is for your mistress. I need you to run to my father, Lord Tywin Lannister. He is at Casterly Rock, far away in the west, by the sea. I need you to give this letter to him and then he will let you stay there until I come with your mistress. Alright?"

I tied the letter securely to the collar around her neck. It was beautifully woven, clearly by Sansa's hand. The wolf whimpered and bumped her head against my chest like she was complaining or worried.

"Don't worry, we will be right behind you. And west is where the sun sets, you know the big yellow ball in the sky that comes out during the day." It was weird talking to an animal like a human being, expecting it to understand you.

Footsteps passed by the doors and I quickly looked to see if it was the shift change. It was, only a few more minutes and I can put my plan in action. I motioned for Lady to come and opened the door for her.

"Now go, quickly."

She looked at me almost sadly and bumped her head to me one more time before turning and running down the hall. I watched her go before I ducked back into the room as the guards were coming down the hallway. When they had gone the same way as Lady I sneaked out and went the way they came from.

Only two guards replacing the four. Odd but good, I hate killing any more Lannister men than I have too.

"Wha…"

I didn't let them finish as I drew my sword and slashed at their throats in quick succession. I couldn't catch both of them so there was a little commotion but luckily the only one to hear them would be the occupant of the room they were guarding. And possibly the guards at the doors to the Tower of the Hand, but that is unlikely. I opened the door and jumped inside, closing it behind me. I turned around to find Lady Sansa standing before her vanity, in a blue rope over her white nightshift and her red hair falling loose down to just below her shoulders. Not the most appropriate setting I admit but what do I expect at this hour at night. Actually she should have been sleeping by now, it is past midnight.

"Good evening, Lady Sansa. I would greatly appreciate it if you would keep from screaming for the time being little Gem." I say and flash her a smirk, not realising that I just gave her a nickname.

"Ser Jaime, what are you doing here? What is happening?" She splutters, her cheeks getting delightfully darker with blush.

"So much to say, so little time, Jewel. I will tell you while you are dressing. Preferably something dark, you can travel in and can get in it without much fuss." I chirp, throwing another nickname in there wave her behind the screen.

"What? Why?" she asked confused as she started dressing.

"Well Jewel, King Robert is dead. Joffrey sits on the Iron Throne. He called your father a traitor and called for his head on a spike along with Steffon's and Sheira's who he calls usurpers. Steffon, Sheira and your father have left the city along with all of the northern host your father brought. Yes your siblings are with them along with their wolves. I was tasked with getting you out of the city since they had to depart before they could get you. No, your Lady did not go with them. Yes, she is safe, I got her out of the city. And yes, I am getting you out of the city now." I say in a rush on full alert for any unwanted company.

"Where are we going?" Lady Sansa asks as she steps out from behind the screen in a dark green riding gown and her hair in a simple braid. Her big, blue eyes trap me in their gaze and I'm momentarily struck speechless. Her eyes a clear sapphire blue like the Sunset Sea during a clear summer day and they bring me back to a happier times. Times where Cersei wasn't power hungry and would swim with me all day and go cliff diving. Times when Tyrion would waddle behind me trying to copy me. Times before this blasted white cloak.

"Ser Jaime?"

Her soft voice brings me out of my stupor and I shake my head a little. Lady Sansa had moved over to me and placed one of her petite hands on my shoulder, her soft touch burning through my clothes. I stare at the hand for so long that Lady Sansa shyly withdrew her hand. I already missed the warmth it provided and I had an urge to take her in my arms.

Wait, what?! I want what? She is a child! Stark's child no less, he will slice me open with that Valerian sword of his. No, I'm not going there. Not. Going. Down. That. Road.

"My apologies, Ser. It was inappropriate. It won't happen again." She says demurely, watching the floor. But I want it to happen again. No, she is right. It will not happen again.

"Come, we have wasted enough time. We must hurry." I say briskly, loosely grabbing her arm and avoiding all eye contact.

We crept down hallway after hallway and more often than not in all the side corridors we had to jump in, I had to pull Lady Sansa against my chest to avoid detection. Now, my body was not complaining, but my mind was raising in complete chaos. She is a child, but her hair smells so good. I'm a kingsguard, but she feels so good against me. On and on it went and it was beyond distracting. There were one to many close calls where I was almost too late to hide us. What is happening to me? Nicknames and far from pure thoughts? It truly is true that love makes men do crazy things. Wait, love? I do not love Jewel, I mean Sansa. I meant, WOMEN make men do crazy things. I am going mad.

Finally we managed to get to the stables where my stallion stood saddled and ready. I had debated bringing a separate horse for her, but found that it was easier to travel on one horse. We would have to stop less for sleeping, since I can ride throughout the night and she could just sleep in my arms. Right now I was celebrating the last part. I quickly look around and see the stables deserted. I then reach into one of the saddlebags and get a hooded cloak and swipe it across her shoulders.

"It will hide your hair, Gem."

It was the first thing I had said to her since we were in her rooms. She nodded her head and I lift her up on the saddle, then grab the reins.

"I will lead the horse out of the city, then I will join you up there."

She simply nodded again and grabbed the stallion's mane. A warmth spread through my chest as I began to lead the horse through the city. She trusted me. She follows me without question because she trusts me. By the Seven, I'm starting to sound like a lovesick maiden.

We trek silently through the streets and before long we are out the gate. It was easier that I thought to get out the gate. I thought for sure I would be stopped. I am after all Jaime Lannister, everybody knows who I am. We didn't get so much as an acknowledgement. I walk a good way from the gate before mounting behind Sansa and then gave the stallion a good kick.

We surged forward and into the night, west, following the Goldroad. To my dismay Sansa stayed rigid and leaned forward, keeping as much distance between us as she could, which admittedly wasn't much. I knew she would tire of it sooner or later and wake up in the morning with a very stiff back, not to mention she was confusing the horse a little.

"Jewel, you best relax and lean against me, unless you want my stallion to throw us of. No worries, I won't peak down your dress." I whisper teasingly in her ear. I wasn't sure but I think I felt her shiver a little.

She forced herself to lean against me and the longer we rode, the more she relaxed and eventually fell asleep. I cherished the feel of her in my arms, she was so soft and fit so well it was a wonder if I would ever let her go. So mesmerised by her mere touch was I that I failed to comprehend that we were being followed.

I heard shouts, looked behind me and my eyes widened. No more than fifty feet away were goldcloaks, and hell of a lot of them. I spurred my stallion faster, in the process waking Sansa. I felt her tired gaze on me but my mind was on one thing only; Get Sansa to safety.

I heard her sharp intake of breath and knew she had spotted our pursuit. I wracked my brain over possibilities to escape, we had at least three days left on horse on a fast pace and few to no stops. One was to go off the Goldroad and into the forest, and risking not getting into the Westerlands when we get to the mountains. Or keep going on the road in clear view of the goldcloaks. At least they aren't shooting arrows that means Cersei wants us alive. Whether that is a good or a bad thing can be debated.

"Jaime?" Sansa's scared voice breaks my train of thought. A stray thought passed through my brain of my name never sounding lovelier but I hastily push it away.

"Hold the reins." I command, giving her the reins. I reach to the bow and arrows hanging of the saddle and quickly find a rope. I tie both ends to separate arrows and aim the first arrow at a tree on the right side of the road. I take a breath and release, hitting my target. Having no time to lose I quickly string my bow with the other arrow and aim for the tree opposite the other and shoot. The arrow hits its mark and the robe stretches across the road taking down a good portion of the goldcloaks who didn't see it.

Unfortunately most of them managed to get around and are quickly coming closer than I am comfortable with. It was then I made a choice.

"Keep going all the way to Casterly Rock, Jewel. At the gate, ask for my father, he is expecting you."

She looks at me fearfully. "But…"

"No buts, Gem. Believe me, better a prisoner of my father than my sister." My tone left no argument and she meekly nodded. I grabbed my sword and checked after my knife before jumping off. I rolled on the ground before jumping to my feet, sword at the ready. The horses came barrelling towards me and I expertly cut at their legs, making them either fall or throw their riders off and running into the night. I managed to get ten riders down of thirteen. The three that were left purred their horses after Sansa.

I got no time pondering 'what if they caught her' since one of the goldcloaks decided to attack me from behind. I simply sidestepped and thrust my elbow into his face, stunning him as I took the knife from my belt and stabbed his throat. The goldcloak fell dead to the ground when I pulled my knife back, blood still running from his wound. Of course the other goldcloaks chose that time to attack me from all sides. I parried and slashed and stabbed and parried some more, trying to get out of the fray. On goldcloak fell, then other two, the fourth one not far behind. On and on it went with them either dying or getting pretty nasty cuts. Of course, I didn't escape unscathed. I had a rather large wound on my left upper arm, along with many small gashes on my back, sides and legs that stung more than they bled. We were all getting tired but I could see the end of it. Only four goldcloaks remained standing and the odds seemed to be going in my favour.

"Let me go!"

My head whipped to the sound and my eyes widened in horror. There coming down the road from the west were the three goldcloaks that escaped me and they had Sansa. She was struggling against one of them, trying to get out of his hold but he wasn't budging.

The goldcloaks took good advantage of my momentarily distraction and drove a pommel of a sword to the back of my head. My vision blackened and I felt both my sword and knife fall from my grip. I fell to my knees and eventually all the way to the ground.

"Jaime!"

Her voice followed me into unconsciousness, haunting me for my failure. _Forgive me Sansa…_

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 **Word count: 2986 words**

 **Hope you liked it. Until next time,**

– **Peace out!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Greetings folks!**

 **I know. I almost gave up on this story, mostly because I didn't know where to go with it. But hey, it is back, kind of.**

 **Enjoy!**

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 **Tywin POV**

Now, how does a realm consume to chaos in the matter of weeks? That is easy, pit the heir and the spare against each other. Hence the Dance of Dragons. Unfortunately it is also the case with my grandchildren. My scowl deepens as I read the letter I received from the capital for the fourth time.

 _Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Lord Paramount of the Westerlands._

 _I, King Joffrey Baratheon, hereby declare my younger brother, Steffon Baratheon, and my younger sister, Sheira Baratheon, traitors to the crown. They are to be captured and brought before the crown alive, but not necessarily unharmed, to face the king's justice for their crimes._

 _I also declare Lord Eddard Stark, Lord Paramount of the North, traitor for his part in assisting my traitorous younger siblings in usurping my throne._

 _His Grace, King Joffrey Baratheon, first of his name._

How stupid can one person be? Or better yet, how stupid can my daughter be? Has she no control over that boy?

I can feel the anger boiling in my veins.

To openly declare Steffon and Sheira, one's own siblings, traitors to be brought to justice, the key word being _brought._ He doesn't even have them in custody! Cersei has always underestimated her children, well underestimated the twins, overestimated Joffrey and ignored the Tommen and Myrcella. I warned her time and time again.

'They will be your downfall if you are not careful' I told her. Did she listen?

NO!

And where does that leave us now? Let's see…

Eddard Stark declares support to Steffon, while that is a curious thing in itself, the North rises in rebellion to avenge their liege lord and his children AND support Steffon, giving him thirty thousand northmen under his command. They say that every time the northerners march south of the Neck the south bleeds, well they are not far off.

The Riverlands declare for Steffon because they will not follow a king who ordered their lands raided and burnt, giving Steffon another forty five thousand men. To think that Cersei had sent letters to MY bannermen and ordered them to raid the Riverlands, WITHOUT my permission to move, attack or even call their banners. And now they have lost two battles against the Young wolf, who I have to admit has an uncanny knack for war strategy for one so young. I have only seen it in Sheira, who by the way has eighty thousand men at her disposal! Now Sheira is better at commanding smaller groups of highly trained men, her little band of assassins a prime example, but Eddard Stark's son proves to know what to do with his numbers, making them an unbeatable force.

I even have sources saying that the Stark boy is going to break the siege on Riverrun, which coupled by Riverrun's strategic placing and the Young wolf's prowess this far, will probably prove the undoing for Ser Addam Marbrand and his soldiers.

The Vale is, so far, neutral. But that can change very fast, especially with the Riverlands and the North passing by.

Dorne doesn't give a shit and will not answer any summon from the capital, so I suppose we won't have a problem with them. For now.

Dragonstone and the lords of the Narrow sea fall behind Steffon also, another curious thing, Stannis is rather stiff in his duty, bringing another five thousand men to Steffon.

The Stormlands are divided. More than half of the lords are supporting Steffon, about fifteen thousand or so, but the rest are not rallying behind Joffrey. No, curiously enough they are rallying behind Renly, declaring him the rightful king of the seven kingdoms. And like that is not enough, he marries Margaery Tyrell, bringing the hundred thousand men behind him and giving him the biggest army of them all, though barely.

I rub my temples to stave of the headache I feel coming.

As the tables are now;

Renly Baratheon has hundred and ten thousand men marching east by the Roseroad, even if it is a rather slow march. I have heard that his love for tourneys rivals his late brother. Even so, they are camped outside of Bitterbridge, the damned castle that should be burned, having another tourney. Still the threat of hundred and ten thousand men is not something to take lightly.

Robb Stark is currently marching his host of twenty two thousand northerners west to relive Riverrun of the siege, which if he succeeds, will give him the Riverland's forces, and added forty five thousand. I can just imagine what he and Sheira will cook up when she reaches them. Because they will reach them. That is where Steffon will be safest even if it is the main battles zone.

Stannis Baratheon sits on Dragonstone with his ships, waiting for what I don't know, and the fifteen thousand stormlords that did not declare for Renly are gathering outside Storm's End. I even doubt the younger Baratheon brother realises he is just about to lose his ancestral seat. He probably thinks the lords are making sure Stannis doesn't take Storms' End from him. It will be his down fall, a lord who cannot keep his own seat, a disgrace.

The Vale and Dorne are neutral leaving thirty thousand and fifteen thousand, respectively, out of order for the time being.

The fifteen thousand crownlanders are protecting the capital from a possible attack. I swear sometimes I doubt Cersei is my daughter, she is way too short sighted, rash, bordering stupid. Anyway that leaves me my thirty five thousand Lannister men to sack the Riverlands, beat back seventy thousand angry northerners and river lords, protecting my own borders and be on the ready to take a host, one hundred thousand strong, in the rear.

This is preposterous. The crown should buy sellswords and send them to me or perhaps I am better off buying them myself.

Funnily enough, if there were not so many lives on the line, I think Sheira would love the challenge that comes with being in my shoes at the moment. Trapped between two armies that both outnumber your own at least three to one. I imagine she would have a field day.

All of a sudden there is an urgent knock on the door.

"Enter."

The door opened to admit a guard, who had a scared look on his face.

"Yes?" I ask impatient, I really cannot deal with more incompetence right now.

"There is a problem in the main courtyard." He stammers.

"Yes? Out with it." I bite out not bothering to hide my annoyance.

"A wolf my Lord. We are trying to put it down but we can't seem to hit it and some are reluctant on hitting it at all." He stammers.

They can't put down one measly wolf. I can feel the rage boiling over as I walk briskly through the halls.

"And why is that?" I really am at the end of my patience.

"The wolf has a collar." The guard stammers and takes a step away from me. Good. He should be afraid. I inwardly seethe, they won't put down a wolf because he resembles a house pet.

When we walk out the door into the courtyard I see many men with weapons but none using them. They simply hold them half heartily in a threatening way directed at one of the walls where a wolf cowers growling. My eyes land on the wolf and I take a double take. That is no ordinary wolf, it is twice the size of a normal one, if not more.

"My lord." The master-at-arms greets me and the wolf's head whips in my direction in, dare I say, recognition. The master-at-arms continues to say something but I raise a hand to silence him, not losing eye contact with the wolf.

"Stand down!" I order as I take a step towards the wolf. The effects were immediate, the men laid down their weapons and the wolf stood to its full height but did not attack, rather cocking its big head to the side in question. It was then that I had the strangest impulse to introduce myself.

"I am Tywin Lannister, lord of Casterly Rock."

It seemed to be the right thing to do because the wolf yipped happily and trotted happily over to me. As the wolf came closer I saw that it was bigger than I estimated, more like a small horse. It bumped it large head against my chest and I almost staggered back by the force of it. Then he looped itself around my back and under my arm so my hand rested on the collar. It was then I saw the piece of paper rolled up and tied to the collar, and more curiously, it had my name on it.

I took the letter of the collar and unrolled it, the wolf laying down at my feet. When I glanced at the writing I deducted it to be Jaime but the more I read, the more of my ire returned.

 _Father,_

 _Well if you are reading this then one of two things have happened, either you killed the sweet little wolf or you have allowed her to come close enough to let you have the letter. I hope it is the latter._

 _First things first, the wolf's name is Lady, and she is Lady Sansa Stark's pet direwolf, so I hope that you will keep Lady alive and well until her mistress' return. I can guarantee Lady's good behaviour, she has a sweeter temperament than a puppy and Lady Sansa has made sure to installed good manners in her she-wolf._

 _On to other things, Steffon & Sheira have fled the city with Stark and his children, not including Sansa, to Dragonstone as far as I know. I was tasked getting Lady Sansa out of the city and I thought that if we are to keep her a hostage it would be better to have her with you rather than Cersei. If Lady Sansa and I are not at Casterly rock within the next five days, you can safely assume we were captured._

 _Now the reason for all of this that most definitely will not be divulged to you but Ned Stark has made claims that Joffrey, Myrcella & Tommen are not Robert's Children but some Lannister's, and Cersei passes them of as Robert's children. I believe that would make Steffon the rightful king of Westeros._

 _And before you think something unbecoming of me or people start speculating, I am NOT the father._

 _Your son,_

 _Jaime_

Cersei is lucky to be in King's Landing right now because I don't think that she would survive the encounter with my temper right now. How could she be so stupid to even let the seed of another man take root and knowingly pass them of as royalty? This could very well mean the downfall of the Lannister name!

As I seethe quietly gripping the paper almost to the point of ripping it a bump of a head to my arm brings me out of it. I look down into the eyes of the wolf, no direwolf of all things, Lady, and raise a questioning eyebrow. She stares unblinkingly right back at me. I inwardly sigh and turn to go inside gesturing for the wolf to follow. This should prove to be interesting.

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– **Until next time! (Whenever that may be** **)**


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